


The Case that Changed Everything

by rhrsmutlover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Mystery, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 120,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhrsmutlover/pseuds/rhrsmutlover
Summary: Harry and Ron are successful Aurors working at the Ministry. But when they are assigned to a new case by their temporary boss, whom they despise, they can't imagine the changes it'll bring to their lives.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 46
Kudos: 63





	1. Rough Days End with Rough Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is, the promised new story. Maybe you’re confused, as I had told you it was going to be a one-shot, but — it turns out that it isn’t. Read the end notes for more information.  
> Meanwhile, enjoy the story, which starts on February, 2004, almost six years after the end of the war.

“Bad weather out there, Weasley?”

Ron had to bit his tongue not to say what he was thinking, because the long list of insults he could have thrown at that wanker of Garmond Gallory would have been enough to fill as much parchment as one of Hermione’s longest essays at Hogwarts.

“Yes, sir,” Ron answered, trying to mask his feelings as he imagined his fist removing that smirk from the wanker’s face.

“Anything to report?” Gallory asked. “After ten hours of watching him, surely you got something to arrest him,” he added, implying that anything less than that would be considered a major failure.

“No, Sir. Goyle spent the whole day alone and doing nothing,” responded Harry.

Ron had to summon all his willpower not to scoff. They _knew_ perfectly that Goyle hadn’t been the one behind the two attacks on women, a Muggle in the London underground and a witch in her own flat. For starters, the jinxes used were too refined and very advanced to be used by a brute with the brains of a troll like him. And, besides, after the war, he had done nothing of relevance. He had been deprived of the right to use a wand for a long time both as a punishment and to force him to appreciate the way Muggles lived. He had got his wand back recently (one of the excuses Gallory had to order him watched) but Goyle wasn’t one to start attacking people or scheming anything without a mastermind behind him. And well … one would have to be desperate to recruit him.

Knowing all that, it didn’t make much sense to put two Aurors to watch him full time, but, during the year Voldemort had been in power, Goyle’s father had been one of the Death Eaters in charge of the Auror Office, and Gallory hated him. Since Goyle Senior was already in Azkaban, he was now determined to get revenge on the son.

But despite being a determined enemy of the Death Eaters, Gallory didn’t like some of the changes Kingsley had done at the Ministry and hated even more how some people had been ‘gifted’ — according to him — Auror status. He had spoken against the Emergency Recruitment Act that Kingsley had issued, despite the desperate need for new Aurors. Right then, nine people — mainly members of Dumbledore’s Army — who had participated in the Battle of Hogwarts and had experience fighting the Dark Arts had qualified under the E.R.A, but now Ron, Harry and Katie Bell remained. The rest had quit to pursue other careers after almost all the old Death Eaters and Snatchers had been caught: Neville had abandoned to teach Herbology, Dean had moved to the Department of Magical Sports and Susan Bones now worked in the Legal Office. Gallory couldn’t really speak against Harry, of course, so he focused his hate mainly on Ron.

It was true that they hadn’t endured the three-year course, but they had gone through an accelerated, very intensive six-month training course and then had been Aurors in practice for another year before being promoted to the Junior category. And in the four years since then, Harry and he had managed to identify and arrest four Death Eaters and seven Snatchers. Some of those achievements had meant their promotion from Juniors to Seniors despite their youth.

But, even with such all they had done, Gallory kept antagonising them, treating them as if they were still in practice and sending them to the most stupid and boring missions available.

“Well, go have a shower and then I want to see you in my office. I want a detailed report,” Gallory said, and then left.

Ron and Harry shared a look and then walked to the showers. The moment they were there and out of hearing range, Ron closed his hand in a tight fist and hit the wall three times in frustration.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Calm down, Mate.”

“Calm down? Calm down?” Ron replied, whipping around to face Harry. “We spent the whole fucking day watching bloody Goyle doing nothing! He has magical detectors around his house so we couldn’t even cast a fucking Impervious Charm, meaning we got soaked to the bone, and it’s fucking February! And, if it were for something, I’d stand it, but you and I know perfectly well that Goyle isn’t the one behind these attacks! Fuck!”

“I know,” nodded Harry, starting to take off his robes. “And if Robards hadn’t been hit by that curse a month ago during the raid to capture Rabastan, we’d talk to him and he’d put an end to this nonsense. But he’s still got another month or so until complete recovery, so we’re screwed.”

“I know. I fucking know! Why had Gallory to become temporary Head Auror, anyway? He’s a useless asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s the most senior Auror.”

“We could talk to Kingsley,” Ron proposed, his voice hopeful. Harry, however, frowned.

“We’ve already discussed this, Ron. And Hermione is right.”

“Yeah, surprise there,” he growled angrily. Hermione’s argument against complaining to Kingsley was that Gallory wasn’t really doing anything wrong _per se_ (her words, not Ron’s). The complaint would be based only in that they were being assigned missions they didn’t like or that they disagreed on how to lead an investigation. And as they were friends of Kingsley, it would look really bad, as if they were effectively using their friendship and fame to get special treatment at the Ministry. Something, Hermione had reminded them, that would put in jeopardy very important reforms they had campaigned for and that were still ongoing.

Despite how much Ron loved his fiancé, sometimes he hated the fact that she was almost always right. But he hadn’t hated her being right about something so much in a very, very long time.

“Let’s finish here, okay?” said Harry wearily, and Ron nodded.

Taking off his clothes and leaving them in a puddle on the floor, Ron stepped into a shower and sighed in pleasure when the warm water started to fall on his cold body. Usually, this would have relaxed him after a bit, but today it didn’t work completely. He was still feeling restless, and he knew that the main reason was that he still had to see the wanker once more. What did he wanted them to report ‘in detail,’ after all? How Goyle liked to drink Firewhiskey after lunch while eating Cauldron cakes, or the way he liked to scratch his ass while he listened to the Wireless?

“Fucking shit,” he muttered to himself. It seemed this day wasn’t going to get better, and it was still Tuesday. If Gallory told them they would have to continue stalking Goyle for the rest of the week, he was going to punch him, resign, and beg George to give him a job as the shop cleaner.

After standing still for a minute under the hot water, Ron washed his body quickly and stepped out, using his wand to dry himself before putting on another set of robes.

“Ready?” asked Harry, who was already dressed and combing his hair with little success. Any other day, Ron would have taken the mickey out of him, but today he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He just nodded at his friend. “Let’s get this over with then.”

They walked towards Gallory’s office and knocked. They were invited to enter and then stood in front of their temporary boss’s desk.

“So, you didn’t learn anything of value, then?” Gallory asked in an adominishing tone.

“No, Sir,” answered Harry. Ron just tightened his lips, not trusting himself if he opened his gob. “Goyle hasn’t done anything in the whole day: no visits, no owls, no Floo calls. Nothing.”

“So you just stood there watching?”

“Yes. That was the assignment, after all.”

“And you didn’t think about being proactive? About looking around a bit, to try and find something instead of just wasting an entire day?”

Ron felt his blood start to boil and clenched his fists to the point of pain.

“With due respect, Sir, we didn’t have permission to enter the property. The only thing we could do was to use the special spynoculars to watch him and monitor the house.”

“A day wasted,” summarised Gallory in a derisive tone that reminded Ron of Snape. “There have been two attacks with the same signature, and there could be another soon. I want Goyle arrested and convicted! Tomorrow you’ll be back there, and I hope, for your sakes, better results than today.”

“Sir, we have no proof about Goyle’s implication in this. These attacks are related, and this is not Goyle’s style. He was a brute, more inclined to pointless violence than attacks with a purpose. And —”

“One of the victims was a Muggle, Potter and the other a Pureblood! The first attack happened just six days after Goyle’s probation period ended and he could use a wand again. And, in case you’ve forgotten, both victims had a nasty scar in the form of two ‘G’s on their foreheads!”

“For fucks sake!” exploded Ron. “Are you daft? Goyle is too much of an idiot to have cast such a curse on anyone! It’s been a week since the first attack and they the healers hadn’t been able to wake them up! And Goyle wouldn’t have attacked a Pureblood just for diversion, much less one of the Nott family! He was friends with Theodore Nott, a cousin of the victim, and had no reason to go after her! If he wanted diversion he would have gone after Muggleborns or Muggles! It would —”

“Enough!” Gallory shouted, his face red. “Don’t you dare tell me how to do my job, Weasley! Maybe you think you are special, being friends with the Minister and having an Order of Merlin first class, but I’ve been an Auror for almost thirty years! And to become one I did the complete course and got the proper qualifications. You didn’t even take your NEWTs, and, for all I know, wouldn’t have passed your OWLs without the help of that girlfriend of yours! Tomorrow you’ll be there at eight o’clock and I expect results, or we’ll have to think about night shifts! Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” nodded Harry, his voice calm, though Ron knew he was fuming inside. Ron, on the other side, was almost shaking and in the verge of exploding.

“And for your lack of respect, Weasley, you’ll be the one writing a full report of today! And I want it in my desk when I arrive in the morning!”

“WHAT!? But — we already told you, nothing happened —”

“Just because you don’t give importance to something, it does not mean it doesn’t have it. Didn’t you sleep for three years with Peter Pettigrew in your bed without realising it?” Gallory spat, wishing to wound and succeeding.

“That —” started to say Ron, who by that point was seeing red and did not care if he was fired, forbidden to ever put another foot in the Ministry and being fined for aggression to a superior. Harry, however, acted quickly.

“We’ll get on it, Sir,” he said quickly, sending Ron a meaningful glance. Ron managed to shut his mouth and refrain himself, but barely.

“You’re dismissed.”

They exited the office quickly and marched towards their cubicles.

“That fucking egotistical, chauvinistic, prejudiced, arrogant, idiotic son of a rotting skrewt!” Ron exclaimed, hitting his desk hard.

Harry chuckled.

“You find this funny!?” Ron yelled, rounding on him.

“Sorry, Mate, but — do you even know what some of those words mean?”

“I heard them from Hermione a few times, always directed to stupid people she was angry at, so they must be nasty and appropriate for that wanker! Can you fucking believe it?”

“I know. It’s so frustrating. He’s obsessed with Goyle. I mean, the bloke’s brains aren’t worth a knut, but he had just regained his wand, he would have to be downright stupid to do something like this so soon, without something more powerful behind him.”

“And what about the fact that the Muggle woman’s surname is Notte? He doesn’t find that the fact the two surnames are similar curious enough to think that the attacks are related?” Ron vented, furious.

“I know, I really miss Robards,” Harry said, sighing. “Well, we better get on with this fucking report. I’m dying to go home.”

“Go,” Ron told his friend. “I’ll write it. It’s already late. Go home to your pregnant wife.”

“But —”

“Don’t worry, Harry, I have one of those special quills from George. There’s nothing to report, so it won’t take long.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “We’ll talk tomorrow, maybe we can speak to Ladnus about what she learned about the Muggle woman.”

“The wanker will have our bollocks if he knows.”

“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t,” said Harry, his eyes gleaming. “Well, I’m leaving then. See you tomorrow, Mate.”

“Bye,” said Ron and, with a sigh, started to work on the report.

Despite what he had told Harry, it took Ron more than one hour to finish it. For starters, he wanted to be thorough, not wanting to give The Wanker another reason to scold him; but the main reason was that he was so worked up, that he had difficulties putting his thoughts in order, and every few minutes he felt his anger bubbling up again and had to get up and pace back and forth to relax a bit, summoning all his willpower to avoid start smashing things.

Finally, with an angry gesture of his wand, he sent the report to The Wanker’s office. He checked his watch and swore loudly.

_Fucking shit, no wonder I’m so bloody hungry. We had a meagre lunch and now it’s past dinner time! And I didn’t send Hermione a message, so now surely she’s pissed off at me, which is exactly what I need to end this shitty day!_

Of course, having a blazing row with Hermione might help him release some of his pent-up frustration, but, on the other side, just thinking that tomorrow they would be subjected to watching Goyle again almost took the fight out of him.

He walked quickly towards the fireplaces, feeling more restless as he moved, his head swarming with thoughts. He imagined himself not coming back the next day and sending his resignation via owl … or going back to the records room, spending the night investigating, catching the culprit before morning and, as a reward for his services, asking for The Wanker to be fired … or simply going to his house, knocking on the door and smashing his nose repeatedly the moment he opened.

_Oh, that would be fucking amazing!_

But none of those options were realistic, and that fact only made him feel even more angry and frustrated.

“Row House!” he shouted as he stepped into the fireplace he had chosen, and green flames engulfed him. A moment later, he stepped out of the one in his living room, and used his wand to clean the soot.

“Ron?” he heard Hermione ask from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he said, moving across the living room to join her. He could smell something good in the air, and yet one part of him didn’t even want to eat, frustrated and dissatisfied as he was.

“I was getting worried, I didn’t expect you to be so late,” Hermione commented. “I thought about sending you a Patronus, but as I knew you were going to be on watch today I —” she stopped her rant the moment he entered the kitchen and she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he repeated in an angry growl. “Everything!” he shouted. “Everything’s wrong!”

“What happened,” she asked, getting up from the chair and approaching him, a worried expression on his face. “Did — did the mission went wrong? Did something bad happen? You don’t look hurt, but — Is Harry all right?”

“We’re fine,” he snarled in response. “Physically at least. The mission, however … Wrong, you say?” he asked, and then let out a mirthless laugh. “The entire operation was wrong from the beginning, Hermione! That fucking Wanker had us watching Gregory fucking Goyle for ten hours in one of the worst rainy days in the history of England, and that’s saying something. And all for nothing, because the idiot has nothing to do with this!” he finished, now shouting as he paced on the kitchen floor.

Hermione stared at him with pity and then embraced him tightly. At first Ron wanted to push her away, as he felt he needed to move, walk, or simply do something, but in the end he refrained and let her comfort him.

“I’m sorry, Love,” she muttered, looking up at him. “I assume when you say ‘The Wanker’ you’re referring to Gallory?” she asked.

“Who else?” growled Ron in response, the simple mention of that name making him want to punch something.

“Do you want to talk about it? While having dinner?” she asked, finally pulling away. “I made your favourite pasta and put it under a Preservation Charm.”

Ron looked at the plates and the steaming bowl on the table. Usually, his mouth would be watering, but he felt nothing. The idea of sitting down and just eating felt simply wrong.

“I need a glass of wine,” he blurted out, feeling his mouth dry. What he really wanted was a bottle of Firewhiskey, but if he went down that road he would end up wasted, with a hangover and an angry girlfriend and that he didn’t need.

Hermione nodded and turned round to grab two glasses and open the bottle. As she did, Ron’s gaze moved down her back.

His eyes darkened when he saw the most amazing ass inside those tight white leggings she liked to put on while she was at home. They clung very tightly to her buttocks, making them look truly delightful. It was as if all the frustrations of the day flew to his cock, which hardened instantly, turning into an iron rod in his trousers. And in that moment Ron knew he didn’t need to have dinner or a glass of wine.

No, what he truly needed was to fuck.

To fuck Hermione, to sink his cock into her as deeply as possible, pound into her tight pussy hard and roughly and cum so strongly he would forget about everything.

In three long strides, he positioned himself behind her. At the same moment, Hermione turned round, the two glasses in her hands, and she almost jumped, the glasses spilling some wine, when she saw him just in front of her.

“Ron? What —?”

Ron didn’t answer. With an animalistic groan, he grabbed her waist with his right hand, put the left behind her head and smashed his mouth against her, snogging her wildly. She tried to say something, but Ron just pressed harder, thrusting his tongue between her lips in seek of hers. Under the sudden attack, Hermione released the glasses, which fell to the floor and exploded noisily. Ron, however, didn’t even flinch, devouring her mouth hungrily, utterly consumed by his need to take her.

Hermione tried to detach herself at first, putting her hands on his chest, but her push lacked determination, and, in the end, she just let them rest against his pecs and responded to the kiss, using her own tongue to play with his.

After a long minute, they pulled away, both of them breathless.

“What got into you?” she asked, panting, before looking down. “Oh, Ron, look at this mess! And I’ve got wine stains on my leggings!”

“Who cares about that?” he asked, his voice rough, as he put moved both hands to her ass. Her cupped her roughly, squeezing those plump mounds of flesh that always drove him mad with lust, and pressed her body against his, his erection digging into her lower belly.

“Ron!” she exclaimed, a bit shocked at his roughness. “Weren’t we going to have dinner and —?”

“Fuck dinner,” he replied, his eyes boring into hers. “I’ve had a really shitty day, Hermione. I feel so worked up, so fucking frustrated. What I really want — no, fuck that — what I really need is to _fuck_ you, right here and right now. I want to pound that tight pussy of yours until I forget about everything but your hot, delicious body,” he blurted out, his hands still massaging her round, amazing bum, grabbing handfuls of her perfect cheeks and getting more and more horny.

“Oh, Ron …” she moaned, closing her eyes briefly. If Ron liked touching her ass, Hermione really liked it touched. It always got her going when he squeezed it, so he used this information to arouse her, his mind swarming with all the wicked things he wanted to do to her. She moaned again when Ron thrust his cock against her and tilted her head backwards. Ron took advantage of this to lower his face to her neck, and give her a playful bit to her earlobe.

“Let me fuck you, Hermione. Help me forget. Give me all the pleasures only you can provide,” he whispered into her ear as he ground his hips against her body, seeking relief.

“Mmmh, Ron …” she said, her hands moving over his hard chest before settling them behind his hear and pressing him face into her neck, which he peppered with kisses and little bites.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” he declared, lifting her body by her ass. He sucked hard on her neck, leaving a very noticeable love bite as he carried her to the living room and then to their bedroom. Once there, he just threw her on the bed. She yelped a bit as she bounced on the mattress.

“You could be a bit gentler, you brute,” she reprimanded him in mock indignation.

“I’m not in the mood for gentle,” he stated, taking off his robes and shirt, so he was only wearing his trousers and boots. Hermione just watched him, her eyes darkening with desire. Ron got into the bed and hovered over her, like a predator ready to attack a prey. She just lay on her back, watching him and biting her lower lip.

Suddenly, Ron fell over her and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. Then, feeling wild, he moved his hands to the neckline of her t-shirt and, pulling hard, ripped it open.

“Rommph!” she squealed against his mouth. Ron, however, felt even more aroused and deepened the kiss, moving his hands to her tits. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the moment his hands covered both globes he groaned into her mouth, relishing the delicious feel of his hands on her bare flesh.

“Fuck, such amazing tits, Hermione,” he muttered after breaking the kiss.

“Ron, you destroyed my t-shirt!”

“It was in the way to your boobs,” he said as an explanation, and slid down his body to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard on it.

Hermione whimpered in pleasure, arching her back, and Ron took more of her tit in, still squeezing the other possessively.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, taste so fucking good!” he moaned into her flesh, burying his face between her tits and pressing them against his cheeks. “You’ve got such amazing tits …” he added, and then latched his mouth to the other nipple, giving it a soft bite.

“Ahhh, Ron!” Hermione cried, both in pain and pleasure, moving her hands to his hair and grabbing it.

Ron groaned once more and moved down her belly, kissing and biting as he descended until he reached the waistband of her leggings. He raised his head to take a good look at the juncture of her thighs. He loved the way the tight, thin garment framed her delicious, pretty pussy, and licked his lips in want. Pulling at the leggings, he lowered them a bit, until the top of her pubic hair was visible. He licked along that line, savouring her taste and scent as she squirmed under him. Her hands, still in his head, pushed down, gently but determinedly, obviously wanting him to stop the teasing and lick her pussy. However, Ron wanted something different. With a sudden move, he flipped her on the bed so she was lying face down. He finished taking the shredded t-shirt of her, revealing her naked back. His gaze slid over her perfect skin until it landed on her glorious ass, perfectly outlined by the leggings. Feeling his desire growing, he groaned once more and lowered his head to the small of her back to kiss her there. He moved his mouth around, kissing and nibbling at her skin, sometimes drawing patterns with his tongue. She squirmed even more under him. He knew she loved this, and so he continued for another minute, until the feeling of her undulating ass under his chest was too much for him. The gave her a rough bite that caused her to whimper and the got to his knees, straddling her lower thighs. After allowing himself a moment to feast on her form, he grabbed the waistband of her leggings and panties at her hips and yanked them down forcefully. She squealed again at the rough action, but Ron barely heard her, his attention focused on the way her ass cheeks rippled. Driven mad with lust by the sight, he palmed her ass roughly, the erotic noise resounding loudly. Ron roared at the way her buttocks moved and threw himself at her, his hands kneading her ass hungrily while he moved his mouth all over her bum, peppering it with bites.

Hermione squirmed even more, her hands clawing at the sheets, and she raised her ass a bit, giving him an even better view. Fuck, her ass was simply amazing and never failed to drive him nuts. He licked and kissed all around frantically as he grunted, the noises coming from his mouth more animalistic than human. Parting her cheeks, he lapped at her puckered hole, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils and submerging him even more in the sea of lust he was in.

Wanting to feel more of her, he moved her right hand between her legs and plunged one finger into her pussy, relishing how wet, hot and tight she was. Hermione moaned loudly, her hips bucking on the bed and he began to finger-fuck her fast and hard as he continued to feast on her ass.

Barely a minute later, he added a second finger and sped up his movements. Her mouth was now emitting a constant moan, and he felt powerful, knowing the control he had over her body.

He wanted more, though.

So moving his mouth to her right buttock, he bit her there, kneading the left with his hand, and used the thumb of his right to touch her asshole while he fucked her pussy. His fingers were already completely soaked, and, when he pressed his thumb to her ass and it yielded a bit, she practically gushed.

“Godsgodsgods, Ron!”

With the next thrust of his fingers, he shoved his thumb into her ass as well and bit her ass at the same time.

She came like a banshee.

“OH, FUUUUUCK, ROOOOOOON! Oh, Roooon! Oh, gods, gods, I’m — oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, cum for me! Cum hard!”

He fingered her until she was too sensitive to stand it and squirmed to get away from his fingers, causing him to move his hand away. With a lustful, horny grin, he rolled her over once more, so she was looking up at him.

Quickly, he unfastened his trousers and lowered them and his pants, revealing his impressive erection, already leaking precum. “Now you’ve cum, I want a good blowjob, deep and hard,” he told her as he stroked himself a bit, “so kneel on the floor and start sucking.”

Hermione eyed his angry-looking prick, her eyes gleaming with desire. She also looked a bit surprised at how rough and dominating he was being, but she seemed to like it. She got off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling at his feet, her face a foot away from his leaking cock.

Ron approached her and put a hand on the top of her head, tilting her face slightly upwards. Then he used his right hand to move the tip along the seam of her lips, coating them in his precum.

“Lick your lips,” he ordered.

Hermione, with her eyes focused on his, did as told, licking her own lips in such a sensual and enticing way, relishing his taste, which made Ron’s cock twitch.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asked, his tone deep and husky.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Yes, Ron, I love your taste.”

That was the final consent he needed to finally unleash completely. His entire body was brimming with want and lustful anticipation.

“I’ll give you much more. Open wide, Hermione.”

Slowly, as if teasing him, Hermione opened her mouth and took her tongue out. Groaning, Ron pushed his hips forwards and directed his cock against her mouth. He rubbed the tip against her stretched tongue, and then put it inside. Hermione closed her lips around him, forming a deliciously tight ring, and Ron began to thrust, softly at first, sliding just an inch in or out.

Soon, however, his needs became more demanding, and he moved faster and deeper, his eyes barely blinking as he watched his cock fuck her mouth. Hermione put her hands on his thighs for support, getting ready, and Ron knew that, should he go too far, she would clearly indicate him to stop.

Knowing this, he let himself go and began to thrust faster and deeper, his tip pushing against her back of her throat, wanting to enter it and go deep. When he tried a few times without success, he pushed as far as he could and stared into her eyes.

“Swallow that cock!”

Her eyes darkening, she did as told and Ron thrust forwards, finally going as deep in her mouth as he wanted, and let out a loud moan of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, yeah … Shit, your throat’s so tight …” He opened his eyes once more and looked down. “Now get ready, I’m gonna fuck your throat raw until I cum in your mouth.”

When she made no gesture to stop him, Ron reared back and then thrust forwards, moaning again. At first he was a bit hesitant, despite the roughness, wanting to be sure she was comfortable. But when she took it and sucked, he simply went wild and started to fuck her mouth hard and deep.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, that’s it, that’s fucking it!” he blurted out as he thrust, the pleasure on his cock simply overwhelming. “Ah, shit, take that cock, Hermione, fuck your mouth’s amazing, gonna fuck it raw until you choke on my cock! Oh, fuck, yes, that’s it, suck it hard, milk it!”

Ron sped up a bit more, his balls hitting her chin. This was the roughest blowjob they had ever engaged in and Ron revelled in the pleasure of it. He could feel his orgasm approaching, unavoidable, and went a bit harder.

Hermione gagged a bit, but also sucked harder as he retreated and moved her right hand from his thigh to her breast, caressing it. Delighted that she was not just taking it, but enjoying it as well, he took a firmer hold on her head and moved just a bit deeper, his balls contracting, ready to fire.

“Fuck, Hermione, here it comes! TAKE IT!”

With a roar, he shoved all his cock into her throat as the first spurt came out. Then, he retreated so only the tip was inside and wanked his cock as she sucked and spluttered around him. Cum dribbled down the corners of her mouth as he shot and shot, the messy image only increasing his pleasure, and he stroked himself to completion, not leaving her mouth until she had sucked the last drop.

“Aaah, shit …” he moaned, and dropped onto the bed, enjoying the blissful relief. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, who was using her own fingers to collect the cum on her chin before slurping on them noisily, her eyes trained on him.

“Shit, Hermione, you look so hot,” he said, panting. “Oh, Merlin, that was — that was amazing …”

“I can tell. You came so much, Ron,” she commented, her voice raspy.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Good, ‘cause we’re far from finishing,” he said, his dominating side returning once he was sure she was all right. “So get on this bed so I can fuck that pussy of yours. I want a tight, hot, wet hole to pound into!”

“You want more?” she asked as she moved, and he wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or just playing along. “After all the spunk you just gave me?”

“Oh, you can bet your sweet ass I do,” he said, his tone becoming dangerous. “Despite how good it was to fuck your mouth, I couldn’t go as hard as I wanted. So you’d better prepare yourself for the fucking of your lifetime.”

Hermione got on the bed, and the moment her bum touched the mattress, Ron pounced on her. He trapped her under his body and kissed her as hard as he could, tasting himself on her lips and tongue.

Hermione moaned under his unrelenting assault, and Ron just snogged her harder. His right hand, which he had been using for support, moved to her tits, kneading and squeezing them roughly.

“Fuck, you’ve got the most awesome tits,” he growled as he bit on her lower lip. “Maybe I should fuck them as well and cover them in my cum. What do you say to that?” he asked before pulling on her lip with her teeth.

“Mmmmh, Ron …”

“You’d take that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, moving along her jaw and towards her ear. “You’d take all that cum and rub your beautiful boobs with it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her voice laced with desire. “I’m yours.”

“Right you are,” he growled, biting on her earlobe.

Ron moved his mouth to her neck and sucked on it, his hands still squishing her delicious boob. He shifted a bit so his cock, which was hardening again, was rubbing against her thigh. Hermione moved that leg as well, giving him more friction.

Ron moved down a bit and feasted on her tits with his mouth once more, sucking and biting a nipple before switching to the other. He grunted as he licked, lapped and rubbed his cheeks against her breasts, as if wanting to bury himself in them. He moved his lower body a bit and parted her legs with his right one, settling them between them.

Suddenly, he knelt on the bed and looked down at Hermione. Hurriedly, he spread her legs further and then positioned the tip of his dick between the lips of her glistening pussy.

“Gonna fuck this pussy now,” he growled. Getting ready, he bent over her a bit, put his hands back on her tits and, squeezing them, thrust hard and deep, burying himself completely in her cunt.

“Oh, fuck, yeah!”

“RON!” she cried, arching her back.

“Shit, take that cock in your hungry pussy!” Ron shouted, starting to thrust fast and hard, his need and desire prompting him to go at it wildly and savagely. The bed creaked under the power of his thrusts, but he didn’t care. The bed could crash and he wouldn’t have stopped, far too deep in a well of amazing pleasure. The more he fucked, every time his cock went in to the hilt he felt the worries and problems of the day disintegrating and going away.

Ron pushed a bit forwards, making Hermione lift her legs and spread them even more. Her claimed her lips once more in a breath-taking kiss before releasing her and resuming his thrusting with a loud groan.

“Gods, Ron …” she moaned, her hands roaming over his back. “Ron, you’re fucking me so hard … Ah, fuck …”

“Fuck, yeah! Shit, your pussy feels so good, I wanna fuck you so hard!” he replied, jackhammering into her snatch, his balls slapping her bum noisily. He bit her neck and squeezed her tits once more, wanting to own her completely. And yet, as he did, he felt he needed even more.

“I wanna fuck you harder, I want your hole tighter …” he muttered and then, in a quick, fast movement, he retreated, taking his cock out and turned her over roughly. She whimpered, shocked, and Ron’s cock, glistening with her juices, twitched at the sight of her jiggling buttocks.

Groaning animalistically, he parted her legs, lifted her ass a bit so she was positioned to his liking, and thrust hard into her from behind.

“Oh, fuck, yesss!” he shouted, the pleasure of her hot, tight pussy around him almost too much. Using his left hand for support so not to crush her, he grabbed her hip with the right and moved hard and fast in her.

“Gods, Ron!” she moaned into the mattress, her hands grasping at the quilt as she endured his rough fucking. “Ah, fuck, you’re so deep! So deep!”

“Not enough! Not enough!” he yelled, moving his right for more support and throwing himself at her harder, trying to reach further into the welcoming, hot depths of her cunt. “Fuck, oh, fuck, more! More!” he shouted, his hips slamming noisily into her round cheeks with each ‘more,’ causing them to redden.

“Ron … oh, Ron … I’m — I’m getting c-close again … Oh, gods …”

“Tighten your pussy, Hermione! I want it tighter!” he growled, burying his face into her wild hair and biting at the back of her neck. “Clench your pussy around my cock!”

Hermione did as told, and Ron thrust harder, relishing the added tightness, as it made the feeling got even better. However, as he watched her getting closer and closer to another explosive orgasm, her body surrendering to his unmerciful, raw fucking, he wished for more.

Groaning, he moved so he was kneeling between her legs and, grabbing her by the hips, he lifted her ass. Hermione, momentarily distracted by the interruption, looked back at him and tried to lift her torso, but Ron put a hand on her back and pushed her head down roughly, making that ass even more appetizing. Then, with another growl, he buried his cock back in her drenched pussy and resumed his frantic thrusting, his hands roaming her cheeks.

This was even better, she was so fucking tight like this, and yet Ron craved more. Despite how good this fuck was, he felt slightly put off by this strange, unsatisfied need. What the hell did he need?

_Rougher. Tighter._

But how? He was fucking her with all his might, and she was clenching her perfect pussy around his cock, there was no —

He almost froze on the spot when his eyes fell between those perfect ass cheeks, in her brown, puckered hole.

That was a hole he had never tried with his cock, and it certainly promised to be even tighter than her perfect pussy.

“Ron …?” Hermione asked, noticing he had slowed down his movements.

Ron, his gaze feral, looked at her sweaty, red face, and the need in him grew. Pulling his cock back until only the tip was inside, he thrust as hard and deep as he could, using his hands to pull her backwards onto his dick.

“Oh, gods!!”

“Fuck, yeah, you like that, don’t you, ‘Ermione? You like my cock deep in your cunt, innit? You love when I fuck you so hard like this, don’t you?”

“Gods, Ron, yes! Yes! Don’t stop, please, I’m just there!”

“But I need more. I want it tighter tonight. So I’m going to take my cock from your wet pussy —”

“No, please!” she begged, pushing her ass back when he retreated.

“— and bury it deep in your perfect, tight ass.”

“No, just keep — what?” she asked, when she realised what he had said.

Ron kept his eyes on hers as he took his cock out, glistening with her juices. He glanced down to pull apart her cheeks and put the tip of his aching dick against her rosebud, pressing slightly. He closed his eyes for a moment and savoured the moment. Just having his cockhead between those mounds of flesh was amazing. Then he looked into her eyes. Despite what he had said and how horny and needy he was, they had never done this before.

“I’m going to fuck you in the ass, Hermione. Tonight I need the tightest of holes and I know your ass will give me the pleasure and release I’m seeking. And you’re gonna let me do it, won’t you? You’re gonna let me fuck this tight ass and will love it.”

Hermione stared back at him, and he saw a trace of doubt in her eyes. But there was also lust in there, loads of it, and, after a few seconds that seemed to last hours, her pupils darkened and she pushed back a bit against his tip.

Something inside Ron roared like a beast. Squeezing her hips and ass hard, he slid his coated cock along her crack and against her asshole and started accumulating saliva in his mouth. After half a minute of rubbing his cock between those cheeks, he slid back on the bed, bent over and buried his face in her ass, taking his tongue out and pushing it against her little star, lubricating it. Hermione’s body gave a jolt at the sensation, and, with a moan, she pushed her ass back into his face. Ron smiled between her buttocks and licked all around, using his hands to pull the two mounds apart and opening her asshole enough to get his tongue inside.

He moved it around trying to loosen her up a bit for his aching cock. Wishing for her to want it, he moved his right hand from her ass and shoved two fingers into her cunt, roughly, starting a fast, hard finger-fucking that made her moan loudly. Ron moved his tongue in rhythm with his fingers until he got tired and he spat a bit into the slightly opened hole. Moving his head back, he shoved his index finger from his left hand into her ass, initiating a double finger-fuck that made her cry in pleasure.

“You like getting your tight ass fucked, don’t you?” he groaned, enjoying the way her two holes were being penetrated by his fingers.

“Y-yes,” she managed to say, her face buried in the mattress. “Yes, Ron. Oh, Merlin, I’m getting close again!”

“No, you won’t cum unless I have my cock buried in your delicious ass,” he stated, and took of his fingers from her ass and pussy. Hermione groaned again in protest and Ron spanked her, turning her whine into a moan. “I’m in charge here,” he growled, and spanked her other cheek before putting his hands back on her ass and pulling her cheeks apart as far as he could. He massaged them a bit, relishing in the way her brown hole seemed to wink at him, and he gathered more spit in his mouth. When he felt he had enough, he pried his hole open with his thumbs and spat in it.

“Get ready,” he said, the eagerness in his voice unmistakable, as he positioned the tip of his cock against her asshole. His cockhead seemed much bigger than her little hole, and the anticipation of how tight it would feel almost made him thrust into her without consideration.

However, he managed to rein over his desire, and used his thumbs again to open her and get the tip inside. He spat once more between his cock and her asshole and rubbed it around a bit before pushing. Her ass didn’t give up and she whimpered a bit, so Ron pushed his thumbs with more force and then pulled on her flesh before pushing with his hips.

This time, the hole opened up and his cock slipped inside. At once, a moan of discomfort left Hermione’s mouth while Ron groaned in pleasure. He moved his thumbs away and the hole closed around his tip, increasing the tightness and the feeling.

It was simply amazing, and he had barely entered her …

“Oh, shit,” he said as he pushed a bit deeper, his eyes fixed on the image of his dick penetrating her incredibly tight ass. “Oh, fuck …”

“Gods, Ron, it — it feels so thick …”

“But you like it, don’t you? You want your little asshole stretched by my big prick, right?” he asked, needing permission to continue but not wanting to stop his dominant behaviour.

“Y-yes,” she responded, nodding quickly.

“Sure?” he asked, his voice deep. “I’ll fuck this tight ass, but only if I make your pussy gush with the pleasure of it. Only witches that cum with me fucking their asses deserve such privilege.”

“Yes,” she responded, with more conviction. “Fuck my ass,” she told him, and pushed back against him, getting his cock a bit deeper in her.

“Oh, fuck …” he moaned, and pushed against her. He kneaded her ass roughly, knowing how much it aroused her, his eyes completely focused in the way her little tight ass devoured his prick. “Shit, it’s so fucking tight!”

Groaning, he pulled back until only the tip was inside, spat once more on his shaft, and pushed again, this getting half of his dick in her. The way her sphincter was massaging his cock was indescribable, and he was dying to get it all in her. He had, at least, the tightness he had craved and even more. Now he needed the hard fuck.

He started to move a bit faster, going a bit deeper every time he pushed forwards. His cock was so constricted that he knew he wasn’t going to last, given how hard he had fucked her pussy just minutes ago. In fact, had he not ejaculated in her mouth minutes before, he was sure he would have climaxed already, but, no matter how long this lasted, he was going to enjoy it.

He pushed even more into her, so practically all his dick was submerged in the delightful depths of her tight ass.

“Holy fuck … This is ass is so fucking good …”

“Gods, Ron, you’re so deep …” she moaned, her voice revealing discomfort, but also desire.

“And you love it like that, don’t you?” he asked, seeking reassurance. “You want me to take my pleasure from your fantastic asshole …”

“Oh, gods, Ron …” she moaned, arching her back. “Yes, I want to please that hard dick of yours …” she added, her voice practically a whisper.

“Fuck, yes!” he shouted, pushing harder until his crotch touched her round, spread cheeks. The image was awesome and Ron felt his cock twitch inside her clutching ass, the intense feeling threatening to make him cum.

Ron bent over her back, his hands sliding up her sides until he cupped her tits, giving them a squeeze, and moved his cock in and out just a bit, letting her to adjust to him.

“Fuck …” he groaned. Even the tiniest of thrusts gave him an amazing amount of pleasure.

He continued like this for a bit, loosening her ass and allowing his own arousal to calm down a bit, until his own need was too strong and he started to move faster, taking half his cock out before pushing it deep, his hips slamming against her ass. After a few thrusts, Hermione let out a moan, and Ron saw, to his delight, her right hand to move under her own body and towards her pussy.

“Are you going to rub that pretty pussy while I fuck your butt, Hermione? Are you?”

“Y-yes. Oh, yes …”

That moan was the final straw for Ron. Abandoning all care, he grasped her ass tightly, drew his cock back and then slammed into her with force. Hermione moaned again, louder, and Ron, groaning, repeated the motion, thrusting even faster.

“Fucking shit, this is how a day should go!” he groaned as he sped up his movements, his eyes fixed on the way his cock entered and exited her stretched asshole. “Fucking a tight ass, not dealing with wankers!” he yelled. “Now I’m gonna go really hard, Hermione! Gonna fuck this hot, tight ass the way it’s meant to be fucked!” he shouted slamming into her very hard and making her bum shake deliciously. Completely dominated by his lust, he poured the day’s frustration into his fiancé’s asshole, the unbelievable tightness drowning his problems in a sea of utmost pleasure.

Hermione was moaning continuously as well, her hand moving fast on her pussy. Seeing her enjoying the rough ass-fucking drove him completely wild, and, lifting both his hands, he spanked her.

“Ahh, Ron!”

The moan only spurred Ron further. Wanting to completely dominate her body, he bent over her, moved his hands to her tits and groped them roughly as he threw himself into her ass, going as deep as possible with every stroke. He knew he was very close, his balls tightening, and he was determined to enjoy it to the fullest.

Pressing her against the mattress, he moved his hips at top speed, fucking her ass mercilessly while he grunted in extreme pleasure.

“Fuck, this is the most perfect hole to fuck, hot and tight,” he told into her ear. “I’m gonna explode, Hermione, and fill your tight bum with my hot spunk … Aaah, fuck, fuck … just take it … Just — take — iiiit …”

“Do it, Ron. Cum in my ass.”

“FUUUUUUUUCK!” Ron shouted and, with all his force, he slammed into her ass one last time, burying his cock in her to the hilt, squeezed her tits hard, and let himself go, exploding in an orgasm like no other he had ever experienced. He was cumming so hard he felt as if he was pouring his soul through his cock and into her body. He kept rutting against her, not stopping until the last drop of his cum was in her ass and he had drained his balls completely.

“Oh, shit …” he muttered as he rested on her back, his face buried in her mane of hair. All his bones had turned to jelly, and his body was still trembling with the aftershocks of the orgasm. “Oh, holy fucking fuck …”

Under him, Hermione turned her face. Ron moved his head a bit and opened his eyes to look at her. She was smiling.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Fuck, Hermione, I can’t even describe it. Fuck, you’ve got the most amazing ass ever …”

Hermione giggled a bit and shifted under him. Realising how rough he had been, and that she might be uncomfortable with his softening shaft still in her bum, he rolled off her, a bit ashamed of how he had behaved, now that lust and frustration wasn’t clouding his mind.

“Are you OK?” he asked her, concerned.

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“You didn’t come, did you?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I was close, Ron. And you made me come before, so it’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” he replied, wanting to return some of the pleasure he had given her. Turning her so she was lying on her back, Ron sucked on her tits, a bit reddened by his rough groping, but did it carefully and lovingly.

“Seriously, Ron, it’s not nec— oooh, Ron …”

Happy to have turned her complaints into moans, Ron kept pleasuring her nipples in a gentle, yet arousing way, before moving down her body and to her very wet and swollen pussy. He didn’t waste time and delved between her supple thighs, attacking her dripping cunt like a starved man. He licked and lapped and ate before thrusting his tongue deep into her hole. He tongue-fucked her for a bit, his hands on her inner thighs to keep her open for him while she squirmed under his ministrations.

“Play with your tits,” he ordered, raising his head a bit.

“Don’t stop …” she begged.

“I won’t if you play with yourself,” he replied, using his fingers to caress her legs.

Hermione bucked her hips a bit and then moved her hands to her breasts, looking down a him, and began to caress and touch them slowly and seductively.

“Yeah, like that. Play with them like that,” he whispered, his voice husky. “Do you want me to keep eating your pussy?”

“Yes, Ron, please, I’m close … so close …”

Grinning wickedly, Ron buried his face back in her snatch and gave her a long lick before latching his lips onto her clit and sucking hard on it. At once, she thrust into his face, wanting more, and let out a long, deep moan that sent shivers down his spine. Wanting more of that reaction, he kept sucking and moved his right hand to her hole, fucking her with two fingers. Hermione arched her back, her mouth opened in a silent moan and Ron sucked hard and shoved a third finger in.

She came wildly, thrashing on the bed while Ron kept sucking and moving his fingers, effectively prolonging her pleasure until she couldn’t take it anymore and used her hands to push his head away from her oversensitive clit.

“Gods, Ron …”

“You look so fucking hot when you cum,” he commented, wiping his chin, which was drenched in her juices.

“Mmmh,” she moaned, smiling in satisfaction.

Ron crawled over her body, memorizing the way her belly and chest moved with her heavy breathing and then kissed her, letting her taste her own juices. Ron groaned into her eager mouth and groped her tits once more.

After half a minute she broke the kiss, in dire need of air, sighed.

She shifted on the bed a bit as he settled next to her, and he saw her grimace a bit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned. Now that his insane lust had been sated, he felt a bit guilty for being so rough with her. “Was I too rough? Fuck, Hermione, I’m such an idiotic brute and —”

“Ron.”

“— I’m sorry. I can — well, apply some healing charms on you and —”

“Ron!” she yelled, finally making him stop.

“Yeah?” he asked a bit meekly.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, caressing his face with her hand.

“But you winced when you moved.”

“Well, I’m a bit sore, I won’t deny it,” she said. “Maybe, being the first time doing anal, we should have been more gentle, but — well, it was rather hot.”

A small smile formed on his face. “So you liked it, then?”

“You know I liked it.”

“Yeah but —” he trailed off. Right in the moment, he had felt confident, sure that she was enjoying it, but now that things had calmed down he was letting the doubts overwhelm him.

“But nothing. It was really hot seeing you that way. And well, you needed it. I’m sure that next time I’ll be able to come with you inside my ass.”

“Next time?” he asked as his eyes lit up at the prospect. Fucking her ass had been one of the most intense and pleasurable experiences of his life and he was dying to do it again. “You — you’ll want to do it again, then?”

“Well, not every time, mind you,” she clarified, “but I liked it, so yes, we’ll definitely do it again.”

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Love.”

“You did like it, didn’t you?” she asked in return.

“Are you joking? That was the most amazing thing ever. I came so fucking hard!”

Hermione chuckled and leaned for a brief kiss.

“And how are you now?” she asked, her expression turning serious. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just I felt so worked up …”

“Well, you know that one of the benefits of having transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is that I’ve got a high security status, so you can talk to me about that. If you want,” she added after a moment.

Ron moved a bit and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. After graduating at Hogwarts with Outstanding in all her N.E.W.Ts, Hermione had immediately enrolled into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where she believed lots of changes were needed. It had been hard, and she had often got frustrated with the reluctance — or even antagonism — of some of the workers in that Department. But she was determined if nothing else, and, besides impeccable work and well-reasoned proposals, she had even used her fame (along with Harry’s and his) to campaign for those changes. She had brought Firenze and Kreacher before the Wizengamot to explain their roles in the war, using the fact that they had fought at the battle of Hogwarts to get support for her changes, and, as she had the Minister’s full support, she had managed to revamp the old legislation and bring a better, fairer world for all magical creatures.

She had worked there for two and a half years, rejecting other offers until she had achieved her long-awaited goal of improving conditions for House Elves. Surprisingly, that had been harder than improving life for werewolves, as many people in the Wizengamot owned elves, which made their lives much easier. She hadn’t managed to free them — as most elves didn’t really want that — but no longer was permitted to punish them, they now had free days to rest and they could abandon a family if they really wanted to. As part of Hermione’s proposal, the Department had created an ‘Elfish Relocation Office’ which helped free elves to find another family or paid jobs (if that was what they wanted).

After managing that, she had finally accepted an important promotion to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There, her work had been outstanding as well, and, in less than one year, she had been promoted once more so now, after two years working there, she had a really high rank in the Wizengamot and legal offices.

“Well,” he started to say, “I —” a loud grumble coming from Ron’s stomach interrupted him, and the two of them looked down at once. “What about some dinner while we talk?” he suggested sheepishly.

Hermione lay back on the bed and laughed merrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you enjoyed it!  
> This story, as I had announced was going to be a one-shot. I had the sudden idea of Ron having a shitty day at work and then working out his frustrations by having wild, rough sex with Hermione.  
> However, when I started to write the first draft, I didn’t focus on the reasons for the bad day, my idea was just to get to the smut. However, as I wrote, I felt that I needed a really bad day for Ron to push their sexual relationship up a level, so I began to wonder what had happened. That led to them watching Goyle, and that to why, and then to the two women and so on. And then I realised that, if the story was left as a one-shot, you would want to know how the case ended and would ask for a sequel. And so I ended up imagining the back story, its ramifications (hence the title) … and here we are.  
> A story not focused on smut — though there will be plenty of it — is a first for me, so I don’t know how long I’ll take to end it. It won’t be very long — five, six, seven chapters at most (or so I hope, but with me, one never knows). I’ll try to update every two weeks at least, though as I have other stories to publish, this might vary from chapter to chapter.  
> Next publication will be a new chapter of Discovering Ourselves, though I’ve got to say I’m severely disappointed with the number of reviews for the last chapter, and I don’t know when I’ll update.


	2. Dream Jobs Can Turn into Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron continue to watch Goyle when something happens. Meanwhile, Hermione reads about the current investigation ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is the next chapter!  
> Sorry for the delay, I wanted to publish it a few days sooner, but, as this is now a multichapter story with a plot, I wanted to make an outline so not to make mistakes. And well, after all, I deliver such mammoth chapters they equal two or three normal chapters in most stories! I wonder if you like them this long or you’d like them shorter, though I’m not sure I can write shorter chapters, if I am honest. They always end up growing as if they were alive.  
> Anyway, some of you have talked about Gallory and that there must be regulations and guards so someone like him can’t do as he pleases. Well, they are, and they’ll be addressed.  
> By the way, you know that, so far, every chapter in every story I’ve published contains smut. There is smut in this chapter as well, but I must warn you that this story might be the first in which I break that pattern. I’ll try not to, but I can’t guarantee anything.

Ron watched Hermione as she took a bottle of wine from the cooling cabinet and put in on the table. He opened it and poured some for the two of them and observed her as she prepared the dishes on the counter. She had put just a t-shirt on, one that barely covered her ass, and hadn’t even bothered with knickers, so, now that she was standing of her tiptoes to reach for some plates, he had a fantastic display of her round, perfect bum.

The bum he had fucked for the first time.

 _Holy shit, you’re such a lucky git_ , he thought.

Hermione turned round and caught him ogling her. With a smile, she made the dishes and plates float to the table and approached him. “Enjoying the view, Love?”

“’Course,” he admitted, licking his lips. “It’s really amazing, you know.”

Hermione’s smile widened and he couldn’t help but grin as well. Despite how gorgeous and sexy she was, she still had difficulties believing it, which only made her even more adorable and desirable, if that was possible.

“Let’s eat before your insatiable belly protest once more,” she said, approaching him.

“My belly is not the only thing in me that is insatiable,” he joked. Hermione smiled devilishly and put her soft, tiny hand on top of his cock, touching it over the pants he had just put on. She squeezed softly, making him let out a slight whimper of pleasure.

“After cumming so hard twice one would think it would have been enough.”

“Want to test that theory?” he asked, a renewed desire rising in him. However, his stomach growled once more at the aroma of the delicious dinner. Merlin, was he hungry!

“Do you want to?” Hermione replied with a smirk, grabbing the hem of the shirt.

“Mmmh — we’d better eat first,” he responded shyly. He really was starving, and that was saying something.

Ron put a very large amount of pasta onto his plate and took a long gulp of wine before attacking his food with enthusiasm. He liked to think his manners had got better over the years — mainly due to a good deal of scolding from his mother and Hermione — but tonight was not a night for finesse.

“Merlin, Ron, you’re going to choke. Chew before swallowing, please!” Hermione told him, half-amused, half-disgusted.

“’Oo ‘ungee,” he said with his mouth full. Hermione frowned at him and he swallowed rather audibly. “Sorry, Love. I’m really, really hungry, we barely ate anything at lunch.”

“So you and Harry spent the entire day watching Goyle?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, taking another bite. He chewed and swallowed before adding, “The whole fucking day under the rain. And we couldn’t really use magic, as the moron has Detection Charms around his property.”

At these words, Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Goyle? _Detection Charms?_ Really? _”_

“Yeah. Odd, isn’t it? Maybe someone else cast it for him, who knows. But the question is that he did nothing the entire day, because he’s got nothing to do with this. You just found strange that he had cast Detection Charms, in no way did a brute like him cast such a curse on those two women.”

Hermione nodded. “Regarding the curse, the healers haven’t yet discovered what curse was used on them?”

Ron shrugged. “As far as I know, they haven’t, no, though I doubt The Wanker would have told us even if they had found something. You know he assigned us to this case yesterday and just because he wanted to screw us giving the most boring and useless task possible.” He stabbed the pasta angrily. “Fuck, we should be investigating, not spending entire days watching bloody Goyle!” He yelled in frustration, and then sighed dejectedly, feeling suddenly very tired. “I really wish Robards was here. Yeah, he’s strict, but he lets us to take the initiative, to think for ourselves. The Wanker just wants to have us under his boot and watch us fail. And if we don’t, then he gets to send Goyle to Azkaban with his Dad. He’s really obsessed about that. I dunno what Goyle senior did while in the Ministry, but it must have been horrible.”

Hermione was now frowning, with a thoughtful expression on her face. “I think you should take the initiative, then.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry? Are you suggesting we go behind our boss’s orders? _After_ you told us not to go to Kingsley?”

Hermione blushed a little but recomposed herself rather quickly. “Well, Robards is your _actual_ boss, not Gallory. And one thing is to complain about not liking what you’re being assigned to, and another because you’re asked to blatantly prosecute a person, who, despicable as he might be, is not guilty, while letting the true culprit free to maybe attack another people,” she explained, her tone getting more and more vehement as she spoke. “Aurors are supposed to gather clues that leads to a suspect, not going after someone and fabricate evidence! That borders a criminal act, Ron! This reeks of practices of old times, and I swore, when I joined the Ministry, that I would change all that, and so did Kingsley!” she finished, breathing heavily.

“I know, I know,” Ron said softly, wanting her to calm down a bit. “But well, he didn’t really tell us to incriminate him, just to find something. I think he really believes Goyle is guilty, but he still has other Aurors investigating the case. He’s just forbidden us from taking part in that. If Goyle truly is the culprit and we don’t find evidence, not only we won’t get any credit for solving the case, but we’ll be blamed for not being able to prove it being the ones assigned to watch him. And so far, he just has us watching a suspect, so we can’t say he’s broken any rule. We wish he had, so we could get rid of him, but I think he’s too smart for that, even if he’s an idiot.”

“That’s completely unfair, what he’s putting you through,” opined Hermione, a deep scowl in her face. “And just because he’s jealous? Or envious? Okay, you didn’t do the three-year course, but the Ministry needed Aurors, and Harry and you had more experience that many of the other Aurors combined. And I think you’ve proven yourselves highly valuable during these past years!”

Ron smiled, glad to see his girlfriend defending him with such intensity. “You went through worse, Love,” Ron told her. “Harry and I are just having a rough patch while Robards is on leave.”

“Yeah, but no one really harassed me, even if they found my ideas ridiculous or even offensive.” She fell silent and continued eating, though in an absent-minded way, and Ron knew something was brewing in that amazing brain of hers. So he kept eating as well, ravenously, while he waited for her to finally tell him what she was thinking about.

He had just emptied his plate and was helping himself to more of that delicious pasta when she put the fork on the table and looked up at him.

“Back, are you?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“What?” she asked, her face blank.

Ron just shook his head, amused. “What were you thinking about?”

“Tomorrow I’ll ask Tom Ackerly to give me all we have about that case. I intend to read it, and, if there is just a hint of bad praxis on Gallory’s part, I’ll be upon him so fast he won’t know where the blow has come from,” she told him, her eyes gleaming dangerously. Ron knew that most people would instantly be scared if they saw Hermione Granger with that expression. He would have, time ago — as her anger was so often directed at him — but now he couldn’t help but feel a bit turned on … and, in this case, also a bit annoyed.

“Hermione, I’m glad you want to help, but I don’t need you to defend me — or Harry.”

“I’m not doing this just to defend you, Ron, even if I’m appalled at the way you’re being treated. And you have no right to be annoyed by the fact that I feel protective of you, my future husband. How many times did you threat to curse someone when they attacked my plans or changes in legislation?”

Ron felt his ears redden a bit. “Well, yeah, but if I remember well, you used to frown at me every time.”

“Not _every_ time,” she corrected him. “I really appreciated your concerns, Ron, even if you didn’t express them in the right ways.” She gave him a smile and reached across the table to squeeze his hand, but a moment later her expression turned serious once more. “Anyway, I’m not doing this just to help you. Even if Gallory really believes in Goyle’s involvement, he should be putting all his efforts in investigating and following evidence, so I want to make sure he’s doing all he must to stop these attacks, which is his duty. Besides,” she added, now with a devious smile on her face, “if I examine the file, I can tell you everything I find. He has forbidden you from taking part in the investigation, but he has no authority over me.”

“You have no authority over him, either.”

“But I can analyse what is being done in the Auror Office to guarantee the law is being upheld and that no rights are being violated.”

“Sounds good,” said Ron. He really wanted to know what Ada Ladnus and her team had discovered, but he was getting a bit tired of talking about the case and his current job, so he changed subject. “And what about you? Sorry I didn’t ask how your day went.”

Hermione smiled. “There was nothing special about it. The usual paperwork, and I finished revising my presentation of the Equality Law for the Wizengamot.

“This Friday, isn’t it?” Ron asked.

“This Friday, yes,” nodded Hermione. “We submitted the proposal today so they can revise it with time. Hopefully, it’ll be voted next week.”

“And approved,” said Ron, smiling.

“Hopefully,” repeated Hermione.

“It’ll be,” assured Ron, finishing his food and taking a long gulp of wine.

Hermione smiled, grateful, and sent the plates to the basin with a flick of her wand, where they began to clean themselves. Then she poured herself more wine and took a sip.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked, getting up and approaching her. She let him take her hand in his and got up as well.

“A bit,” she admitted meekly.

“If you had it here, you could read it to me — if you want my opinion.”

“I have it here,” she told him, blushing a little. Ron couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You were rereading it once more while waiting for me, weren’t you?”

She nodded. “It is a very important law, Ron.”

“I know,” he said. It truly was. It would be the culmination of her work at the Ministry: eradicating all types of discrimination; guarantee equality of treatment, regardless of birth or parentage; ensuring that wizards and witches of Muggle upbringing and half-bloods could have better relationships with their Muggle relatives and improving the integration of squibs so they could choose to work in the Wizarding or Muggle worlds without losing touch with their families. It was a very advanced law, and Ron knew there would be opposition from some old families. However, many of those families had Death Eaters among them, and, as lots of people had suffered at their hands during the war, or ended up fearing for their lives, people supporting those old views would be publicly shunned. And Hermione was a rising star in the Ministry, having improved the life of many people. She was also Harry Potter’s best friend and a war heroine. No, Ron was sure the law would pass, and, deep down, Hermione knew this as well. She just was suffering what Ron called ‘the exam syndrome’.

“Do you want to read it to me, then?”

“I’d love to,” she said, grateful, “but after the day you had, I wasn’t going to ask you that. You should relax.”

“You already helped me relax,” he said, moving his hands down her back and to her naked ass, which he kneaded. “And I don’t mind hearing your presentation, it’ll keep my mind off work.”

“Okay,” she said, moving to the living room. Ron followed her and sat down while she walked to their home office to get her papers. Ron sighed and looked up, deep in thought. Things were going really bad at work if he was more willing to hear one of Hermione’s brilliant but long presentations instead of thinking about his job. There had been a time when he couldn’t stop talking about it, excited about what the new day would bring. Now he just dreaded waking up in the morning.

At that moment Hermione came back and she sat down in an armchair, facing him. Ron watched her, his eyes darting to between her legs and to her deliciously looking pussy.

“Ready?” she asked, unaware of the fact that he was ogling her.

“Yeah,” he said, and she began to read.

“So — what do you think?” she asked forty minutes later.

“Shorter that I had anticipated,” he said.

Hermione blushed a bit. “Well, it was longer, but Mr Knowton thought it was better not to wear out the members of the Wizengamot.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, smiling. Francis Knowton was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he was an absolute fan of Hermione. He had been the one responsible for pursuing Hermione so she would transfer to the Department. “It is very well written and very convincing,” said Ron. “But the most important thing is how passionate you sound when you are reading and explaining the reasons why the law is necessary.”

“Just because I’m convinced and really into it won’t be enough to convince the representatives, Ron.”

“It should,” he replied. “Everyone knows how smart and what a good person you are.”

Hermione laughed. Still smiling, she put the papers on top of the coffee table before leaning against the back of the chair, and Ron’s eyes darted to her pussy once more. He knew he was a complete pervert when it came to Hermione, but fuck, she really had a pretty pussy, so hot and tight and —

His cock twitched in his pants.

Trying to ignore it, he looked up and found her staring at him with an odd, somewhat stern expression.

“Were you looking between my legs, Ron?”

Ron just shrugged. “Well, you aren’t wearing panties, Love.”

“I’m aware,” she said, and got up, giving him a good view. “And you seem to like what you see,” she added, nodding towards his crotch.

“Well, it’s got a mind of its own …”

“Oh, I know,” she commented, approaching him slowly. She pushed his knees together and sat astride him, putting her hands on his shoulders and massaging him gently. Ron moved his hands to her supple thighs and caressed her skin, his eyes fixed on hers.

“One would believe you are satisfied, after how hard you came before,” she teased.

Ron grinned and moved his hands to cup her bum. “Well, Ms Granger, what can I say? You’ve got an ass even more amazing than I thought, and I really thought a lot of it.”

Hermione let out a short laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Oh, I definitively do,” he assured. “Both the outside —” he gave her another squeeze “ — and the inside. Fuck, it was so unbelievably hot and tight,” he commented dreamily. Then he focused on her amused expression and asked, “You really liked it, right? The anal sex?” He knew she had told him she did, but she had just cum. He had loved it, and was dying to try it again, but he never would it if she did it just for him and didn’t really like it.

“I did,” she reassured him. “It was a bit odd and uncomfortable at first, but it was really intense, having you in there. And well, having one of the best Aurors’s cock in your ass is almost a privilege,” she joked.

He chuckled. “One of the best Aurors, uh?”

“Yes,” she nodded emphatically, moving her hands to caress the nape of his neck. “And don’t you let anyone make you believe otherwise.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I didn’t have you.”

“But you do have me. And I’ll support you like you support me. Always. I love you, Ron.”

“I love you too. So much.”

Hermione leaned forwards and kissed him, softly at first, but when Ron squeezed her ass they deepened the kiss and began to snog passionately, both pouring into the other’s mouth all the love they felt. Hermione pushed her body closer to him, grinding a bit against his crotch and Ron moaned into her mouth.

“There is — some swelling under me,” she whispered, breathing heavily.

“Yeah. Unavoidable when a powerful, sexy witch is sitting on you wearing just a t-shirt.”

Hermione let out a little moan and began to kiss along his jaw. “We should do something about that,” she whispered when she reached his ear. She gave his earlobe a playful bite and then slid off him. Ron was about to whine when he realised she had just knelt in front of him. With her pretty, bright eyes fixed on his, Hermione reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled. “Lift that tight ass, Ron.”

Ron did as told, eager, and Hermione slid the garment down his legs, baring his hard cock to her. Throwing the pants to the side, she focused on his dick. She pushed his legs apart, making space for herself, and got closer, her soft hand moving to cup his balls.

“Ahh, Hermione …”

With a sultry expression on her face, she used her other hand to wank him slowly, teasingly. Ron moaned and bucked into her hand, seeking more friction, but she kept the slow pace until a drop of precum poured from the tip. Then, she pointed the cock towards herself and enveloped it with her mouth, savouring it.

“Mmmmh,” she moaned around his shaft.

“Shit, Hermione …! Fuck, your mouth feels amazing …” he groaned in pleasure.

Hermione licked and lapped his dick for a bit and then began to suck harder, taking more and more cock into her mouth.

Ron watched her, enthralled, and put his own hands on her hair. She hadn’t bothered combing it after their previous romp, and it looked completely wild, the way he loved it.

Hermione bobbed her head faster, engulfing hid dick with fervour, and Ron thrust into her mouth, the pleasure to great to stay still. Shit, she was so good at this!

After a bit, Hermione slowed down, content with just having the shaft in her mouth while she used her tongue on it. Ron both loved and hated that, and, when he couldn’t resist anymore, he moved his hips once more to tell her he wanted her to suck hard once more. She complied and Ron groaned in delight and relief.

However, before long, she just released him, giving him a long, noisy suck and sat straight on her calves. She licked her lips.

“Fuck, Hermione …”

She smiled saucily and got up, opening her legs a little so he had a perfect view of her cunt, and then straddled him once more. She put her hands back on his shoulders for support and, leaning forwards, she gave him a short kiss before whispering, “guide your cock into my pussy, Ron.”

Groaning, Ron hold his dick up, and she positioned herself so the head was just between her folds. Then, holding his gaze, she lowered herself onto him. Both closed their eyes, moaning, feeling how his hard meat opened her cunt, stretching it.

“Fuck, you’re so tight … so deliciously tight …”

“Ron, you feel so good inside me …” she moaned, starting to move over him. Ron could feel her muscles sliding up and down his dick, almost torturously slow, and he clutched her waist under her shirt, wanting to feel her bare skin.

“Take the shirt off,” he told her. “I want to see your tits bouncing while you ride me.”

“No, do it yourself,” she replied, maintaining her slow rhythm. “Show me how much you like my body, Ron.”

Ron grunted and yanked the shirt off her, almost forcefully. Then he threw it aside and moved his hands to cup her round tits, kneading them with hunger.

“Slowly,” she told him, caressing his face lovingly. “Slowly, Ron. Let me love you. Let me love you like you deserve to be loved.”

“Hermione …” he groaned, his insides bursting with the passion and love she felt for this woman. “Kiss me, Hermione. Kiss me now.”

Hermione leaned towards him, crushing her breasts, with his hands still on them, onto his chest and kissed him. It was a slow, sensual kiss, but he could feel the passion and desire pouring from her. Ron moaned into her mouth and tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled apart a bit. “Slow,” she repeated, her breath ticking his lips.

Ron nodded and they resumed the kiss. He kept moved his hands to her ass and kneaded her gently while she continued rolling her hips, creating the most amazing sensation on his cock.

The need to go harder while she moved so slowly heightened his senses, making the sex more erotic and sensual. He seemed aware of every move Hermione made, of every sound that came from her mouth, of every inch of skin his fingers touched, and, especially, how tightly and deliciously her wet pussy was clutching his cock as it slid up and down his shaft, over and over.

She ended the kiss and leaned back a bit, making her movements a bit more determined, though going at the same pace.

“Hermione …” he half-moaned, half-pleaded, not knowing if he wanted her to go harder of just to keep it this way forever.

“It feels so good, Ron, so good. Gods, I love having you inside me,” she moaned, her fingers delving into the muscles of his shoulders and back as she sped up.

Ron groaned with the change in intensity and watched, mesmerised, the pleasure etched upon her face, the way her mouth was opened in a silent moan and he couldn’t help it anymore. He put his hands back on her hips and helped her move faster. She moaned loudly and went along with him, riding him faster and harder, her round ass slamming noisily against his thighs.

“Shit, Hermione, your cunt feels amazing, so hot, tight and wet …”

“Ohhh, Ron … I love fucking you, I love your hands on me. Touch me, please …”

Ron grunted and began to buck his hips up in time with her thrusts and moved his right hand to between her legs, using his thumb to rub her clit.

“Aaah, Ron, yes! Oh, yes!”

She moved faster and harder, approaching her orgasm. Ron’s attention was drawn to her bouncing tits and. Needing to taste her, he used his other hand to pull her upper body towards him and then latched his mouth to her right nipple, sucking hard.

Hermione squealed and embraced his head, trapping him against her tits and forcing him to take more in his mouth.

“Oh, yesss! Suck it, Ron! Suck — it!” she demanded, moving her hips faster.

With her pressed against him this way, his hand was twisted, so he turned it so his palm was up and used his fore and middle fingers to continue rub her. Hermione moaned louder and Ron sucked harder, even giving it a soft bite and then changed to the other, repeating the treatment. Hermione became almost delirious as she jumped up and down on his dick. Ron growled against her tits, sucking harder and used his free hand to squeeze her ass.

“Just there, Ron … Just there! Keep sucking my tits, gods, I’m about to come … Oh, fuck, Ron, I’m about to come!” she exclaimed out loud, her hair flying wildly as she arched her back.

She lifted herself until only the tip was inside, and then she slammed down really hard, orgasming powerfully.

“Fuck, Ron, I’m cumming! Ohhhh, yes, yes, yesssss! Cummiiing!” she shouted as her pussy spasmed around his steel hard cock.

Ron kept sucking her as she thrashed atop him, the rhythmic pulsations of her tight cunt sending waves of pleasure throughout his body.

“Ahhh, Ron …” she sighed in bliss as she came back from her high.

“Shit, Hermione, you’re so hot when you cum …” he groaned, releasing her tits. Needing to cum desperately, he grabbed her by her hips and thrust upwards as hard as he could, seeking his own pleasure. Hermione moaned and smiled at him, her eyes still dark with lust. “Fuck, so tight … so good …”

“That’s it, Ron,” she encouraged. “Cum for me. Cum in me and fill me up once more.”

“Shit, Hermione! Fuck, cumming!” he shouted as he exploded inside her. Once he stopped spurting into her welcoming pussy, he sagged and relaxed against the back of the couch, panting heavily, a feeling of profound satisfaction flooding him. “That was fantastic,” he commented, his hands moving to massage her back and ass.

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, giving him a long, deep kiss. When it ended, she moved off him, and he groaned at the loss of her perfect twat around his softening dick.

“We should take a shower,” she said. After two wonderful sessions of sex, they were a bit sweaty.

“Yeah,” he nodded. They got up. While Hermione put her presentation back on her suitcase, Ron went to their bathroom and prepared the shower, stepping into the stall, where Hermione joined him a minute later. They were rather sated after two wonderful sessions, so, despite playing and touching a bit, they finished in five minutes. Once they were cleaned and dry, they put on their pyjamas and moved to the bed, ready for the night. Ron got under the sheets first and observed Hermione as she worked on her hair. She looked deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked when she moved to the bed.

“About your case,” she responded, and he repressed a groan. He had managed to put it to the bottom of his mind and didn’t want to think about it, so he didn’t say anything, hoping she wouldn’t voice her thoughts.

 _Hermione not voicing her thoughts. Yeah, right_ , his brain told him in his most sarcastic voice.

“It’s just that I think you’re right,” she said, oblivious to his mood. “The two victims have things in common: both are women, with similar surnames … It could be that someone had something against the Notts …”

“I suppose loads of people have, as Nott’s father was a Death Eater,” he commented dryly.

“And so was his grandfather,” added Hermione.

Ron narrowed his eyes, confused. “His grandfather?”

“Don’t you remember what Harry told us in sixth year?” she asked him as she settled next to him under the sheets. “There was a Nott among Tom Riddle’s friends at Hogwarts. Giving that happened in the 1940’s, I assume it was his grandfather.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ron, remembering. “It could be another Nott, though. Maybe a great-uncle? But, in any case, the Notte woman is a Muggle.”

“Yes, that is what doesn’t add up,” Hermione said, nodding and still deep in thought. “Well, I’ll see what there is in the file and what else I can discover,” she added. Then she seemed to think about something else and looked at him. “You — you don’t mind, do you? I mean, it’s your job and your case. I don’t want to imply you need my help —”

“Love, I always welcome your help. And it’s been a while since last time we worked in something together, you, me and Harry.”

“It’s ‘ _Harry, you and me_ ,’ but I get what you mean.”

“I loved when you were in charge of the trials of the guys we caught. It’s what I loved the most after you moved to our department — well, along with the fact that we were on the same floor. I miss that a bit since you got promoted.”

“Yes, I miss that as well, but you know handling trials took lots of time so I couldn’t focus on legislation as much as I wanted.”

“I know. And you’re doing an amazing job. Even though is rather boring, with all that paperwork,” he teased.

Hermione hit him in the arm. “My job is not boring! And you, mighty Auror, have to deal with lots of paperwork as well.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” He sighed and looked up. “Let’s sleep. I’m knackered and tomorrow it’s going to be another long day.”

“Yes.” They shared a goodnight kiss, turn off the lights and then Hermione snuggled against him under the covers, sighing contentedly. Ron embraced her and looked up at the ceiling once more. He really was tired, but it took a long time for him to finally fall asleep.

* * *

Next morning, he woke up with a strange sensation in his body. He squirmed a bit, until he realised, snapping his eyes open, that there was a hot, wonderful mouth wrapped around his cock and sucking with gusto.

“Holy shit …”

“Good morning, Love,” Hermione said from under the covers. Ron lifted them and looked down. His fantastic, amazing, wonderful girlfriend was between his legs, smiling wickedly at him while she stroked his dick with her right hand.

“Fuck, Hermione …”

“I woke up and thought that I could help making your day a bit better,” she told him, and then took his cock back in her mouth.

Ron hit the pillow with his head as he swore. “Shit, right now it couldn’t be better! Oh, fuck, Hermione, yeah, like that. Suck my cock like that and I’ll give you an appetizer before breakfast … Ah, fuuuck, yeah … yeah …!”

“Mmmmh,” she moaned as she kept sucking with renewed fervour. Ron moved his hands to her head, wanting to feel her hair as she blew him. He caressed it, encouraging her to take him deeper and harder. Knowing him and what he liked, she did, and Ron felt closer and closer to his release.

“Fuck, Hermione, I’m getting so close … Shit, don’t stop, don’t stop! Let me cum in your pretty little mouth, let me fill — Unnngh, Hermio-kneeeee!” he exclaimed when the strong orgasm caught him almost by surprise and he started shooting into her willing mouth. He could feel her sucking harder around him, increasing the pleasure, swallowing until he had nothing more to give. With a hum of satisfaction, she cleaned his cock completely and released it, crawling up to lay next to him, one hand draped over his torso.

“Good?” she asked, a smug smile on her face.

“Are you kidding? Hermione, you’re the best girlfriend ever, for sure …”

Hermione laughed. “Honestly, Ron, I highly doubt I’m the first woman to wake up her boyfriend with a blowjob.”

“Perhaps, but you’re the best at it …” he whispered, his voice dreamy as he basked in the pleasure of his orgasm. “The amazing, mighty Goddess of Cock-Sucking …” he added in a rather solemn tone.

She laughed again. “You’re an idiot, you know?”

“After such a blowjob, you can call me anything …” he said, giving her his lopsided smile.

She shook her head and got off the bed. Ron watched her, eyes on her ass. She was wearing a pair of simple silk pyjama trousers, but her ass still looked amazing.

Hermione glanced at him on her way to the bathroom. “We’ve got to get ready for work, Ron.”

“But I want to repay you,” he pouted.

“Tonight,” she said as she opened the shower.

Ron sagged on the bed and sighed. “Well, time to get up then,” he muttered, wishing he could stay in bed all day instead.

Ron was grateful for Hermione’s awakening because, the moment he stepped into the Atrium, his mood worsened. He had just stopped in front of the fountain, wearing a sombre expression on his face, and had almost had to be dragged to the Department by an eager Hermione. Despite her worries about her law, she felt eager and energised, and Ron envied her a bit.

“Try to have a good day, okay?” she told him, pecking him on the lips. “I’ll tell you what I find tonight.”

Ron nodded. Hermione squeezed her hand encouragingly and, with a smile, she left towards her office. Ron watched her for a moment before moving turning towards his cubicle. Harry was already in his, reading the Prophet as if he didn’t have any care in the world.

“There you are,” he said when he heard Ron. “Ready for another shitty day watching Goyle scratching his fat ass?” he teased, a hint of a smile on his face. Ron frowned at him.

“Why are you so cheerful? The Wanker is making our lives hell and you look completely happy!” he snapped, feeling a bit put out by Harry’s mood. Why couldn’t he sulk like him?

“I’m not cheerful, Ron, but I won’t be moping all day. I’ve got you for that. Look into the bright side, we’re going out instead of doing paperwork or something like that.”

“Out in the cold and under the fucking rain, you mean,” Ron grumbled. “And when we don’t discover anything about Goyle — then what? We listen to The Wanker yell at us again?”

Harry just shrugged. “Let’s hope Ladnus finds something. I wanted to talk to her before we left, that’s why I came early, but she’s not here. I’d like to know what she’s discovered so far, as The Wanker — is that his official nickname now? — does not let us read about the investigation, but I think Ada would talk to us anyway.”

“Yes, that’s his official nickname now. And regarding the case, I talked to Hermione last night. She got a bit angry at him for having us prosecuting Goyle in such a way. She said she was going to read the file and tell us what’s in there.” At this, Harry’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s hope she finds some defect in The Wanker’s actions so we can get rid of him …”

“If there is any, she’ll find it,” said Harry, happier. “Well, we’re in the capable hands of your fiancé now, so let’s enjoy our day. Shall we?”

Ron grunted, unhappy. “Let’s go, yeah.”

The day looked as bad as the previous one, but Ron and Harry found a better spot to watch the house, under a bunch of trees a bit farther from the limits of Goyle’s property, so they could use magic to protect themselves from the rain. They had also brought warmer clothes and had charmed their cloaks previously. And Harry, bless him, had brought some delicious food prepared by Ginny. Ron and Hermione didn’t do bad in the kitchen, but neither enjoyed it. It had never been Ginny’s thing, either, though she was way more talented. And now that she was on leave due to her pregnancy, she had been practising with their mother, as she got bored of being home all day. Harry had started to complain that he was going to have to work out a bit more or he was going to get fat.

After settling, they watched the house in silence for more than two hours until Goyle got up from bed and, yawning and stretching, he moved to the window to look out of it.

“How fair is this, Harry? He was a supporter of Voldemort and is in a warm house, having just got out of bed, while we’re here in the cold and the rain. It’s starting to remind me of the hunt.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Mate,” said Harry. “I know what you mean, though. Aren’t the Goyles an old family? They surely had some gold and he’s living off that.”

“Yeah. Bloody unfair, if you ask me. I mean, remember that bloody fortune in the Lestranges’ vault? I don’t think Goyle’s that rich, however. This house is not bad, but it has nothing to do what Malfoy manor. In any case, the Ministry should have seized that money and use it to help victims after the first war.”

“That would have been nice, though I doubt the goblins would have liked it,” commented Harry. Then he seemed to remember something and turned his head towards Ron. “But well, doesn’t the reformed Penal Code in which Hermione worked include that? Obligation to pay to repair the damages done?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Ron. “She said that was common in the Muggle world. But that couldn’t apply to those who already had committed crimes before the code was reformed.”

Harry nodded again. “How fortunate for them.”

“Hermione says that applying laws retroactively would cause legal uncertainty and would make people distrust the government, because you could be punished later for something that was legal when you did it.”

“I reckon it makes sense, yeah,” said Harry, directing his eyes back to the house.

Ron followed his gaze and grunted. “What a waste of time, being here. We could be doing something productive.”

“Yeah, I know,” nodded Harry, though he didn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as Ron was. Truth was that, as most Death Eaters and Snatches had been caught, lately Auror work was becoming rather boring. It isn’t that he liked being in danger, but time ago he felt fulfilled, knowing he was doing something good, that he was making a difference. Harry still seemed to think that, but Ron didn’t share that belief. Not anymore. Yeah, sometimes they still caught a bad guy, and just by being Aurors they were preventing some people from committing crimes, but he wasn’t getting the same satisfaction as before. And he realised, suddenly, that he had been feeling this way for a while, it wasn’t something new. The current situation and mission had just intensified that sensation and made him aware of it.

The realisation left him feeling very confused, and for a moment thought about talking to Harry about it, but then decided to keep his doubts to himself for the time being.

“Tea?” asked Harry after a bit. It was pouring now, and, despite their charms, Ron was starting to get cold.

“Yeah, thanks.”

The hours passed without anything of relevance happening. Harry and he took turns using the spynoculars to watch the house, but the only thing they got was envy, as Goyle sat on a comfortable sofa, with a warm fire in the fireplace while he listened to the wireless or read magical comics, frequently while he ate cakes and drank copious amounts of firewhiskey. Every now and then, Ron let out a swear and complained about the rain, the cold, The Wanker and what a waste of time this was.

However, when they were sure this day would be just a replaying of the previous one, something happened.

Around three in the afternoon, the fireplace in the living room lit up with green flames and a slim, tall wizard with a square face and dirty blonde hair stepped out, wearing a thick traveling cloak.

“Someone’s just come in!” Harry told Ron excitedly, and Ron quickly grabbed his spynoculars to watch as well.

“Hi, Greg,” said the newcomer, speaking with a thick accent.

“I didn’t expect you today,” responded Goyle.

“Yeah, I can see that; you look very comfortable,” the blonde commented with a slight trace of disdain. “But we’ve got things to do, so get your fat ass off that sofa, get dressed and let’s go.”

Goyle threw a look out of the window and grunted. “Does it have to be today?” he inquired, clearly not happy.

“Yeah,” replied the blonde with an edge in his voice. “What’s the problem, you too busy?” he asked sarcastically.

Goyle grunted, but he got up and went to his bedroom.

“Who’s that guy?” asked Ron, still looking into the house. “Do you know him?”

“No,” responded Harry.

“We should take a photo of him.”

“Already done,” said Harry.

Ron thanked Merlin for how awesome the Spynoculars were while Goyle got ready. They kept watching the blonde guy, who simply stood in the drawing room with a bored expression until, a few minutes later, Goyle joined him, dressed in robes and with a travelling cloak on his arm.

“Ready?” he asked with a hint of impatience.

“Yeah,” nodded Goyle.

“Let’s go, then,” said the other wizard. They exited the house and walked to the limits of the property, not far from where Ron and Harry were hiding. Once there, the blonde man grabbed Goyle’s arm and they Disapparated.

“Shit, where have they gone?” asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. “Does it really matter?” he said. “I mean, it’s not as if he’s behind those attacks.”

“Yeah, but Gallory will be furious when we told him he went away.”

“Well, we have no authorization to put a Tracking Spell on him or anything like that,” said Harry.

Ron scoffed. “As if that will make any difference …” He sighed. “What do we do? Go back to the office?”

“We should wait, see if he comes back and when.”

“Fantastic,” said Ron, leaning back against the trunk of the tree under which they were hiding.

They waited for hours. Night had already fallen when Goyle Apparated back, alone. He walked into the house whistling merrily.

“He looks happier than when he left,” commented Harry, suspicious. “I wonder where he went and what he did.”

“Maybe he and his friend visited some brothel or something like that,” suggested Ron. “He’s bound to be happy after a shag.”

Harry screwed up his face in disgust. “That’s a mental image I didn’t need, Ron. But why was he so reluctant to go, if he was going to shag some woman?”

“Dunno. Maybe he didn’t know?” proposed Ron.

“No, that doesn’t make sense. Remember the talk he had with the blonde guy: he knew what they were going to do, and he didn’t want to go. At least not today.”

“Maybe it was something unpleasant that turned out all right, and that’s why he looks happy,” said Ron. “Like visiting an annoying relative, like his family’s version of Aunt Muriel. But then she offered him a really good cake and that’s why he’s so happy.”

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed. “Really? You’re really considering that as an explanation?”

Ron shrugged, the corners of his mouth curving up into a small smile. “It could be.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re completely bonkers, Mate. In any case, it’s getting late. We should get going.”

“At last,” said Ron, relieved. “With a bit of luck, The Wanker won’t be at the office and we can go home in peace.”

But it turned out that they weren’t lucky. Gallory was still in the Auror Office and was upon them as soon as they had walked into Ron’s cubicle. Without bothering with pleasantries, he ordered, startling them, “Take a shower, then come to my office.” And, without giving them time to reply, he walked away.

Ron and Harry shared a grim look.

“Did he cast a Supersensory Charm to know when we came back?” Ron asked, dropping onto his chair.

“Either that, or he’s got the senses of a Kneazle,” responded Harry, who was putting down his rucksack. “You’ve got a note from Hermione,” he added, pointing to a piece of parchment on the middle of Ron’s desk.

Ron grabbed and opened it.

“She says that she talked to Ginny and that they will be preparing dinner at my house and that we must send them a Patronus when we know at what time we’ll be there.”

“Okay,” nodded Harry. “What do we tell them?”

“Dunno how long The Wanker will keep us here …”

“Let’s tell them that, then, and take a shower,” suggested Harry, and took his wand to send his stag to Ginny and Hermione.

They showered quickly, glad for the hot water after a day out in the cold, and then went to Gallory’s office, with the same spirit they would show while walking to their execution.

“And well?” The Wanker asked the moment they walked in. He was sitting regally on his comfortable, large armchair, a sparkle of eagerness in his eyes.

“Nothing, Sir,” said Ron.

“ _Nothing?”_ repeated The Wanker, arching one eyebrow and doing nothing to hide how displeased and annoyed he was.

“He stayed in the house doing nothing until lunch,” explained Harry. “Then, around three o’clock, another wizard came and they Disapparated. He came back just before we left.”

“He left the house!? With someone else?” asked Gallory, sounding eager. “With whom?” he inquired, and then, before they could respond, he rounded on Ron. “And you say ‘ _nothing’_? The prime suspect in this case leaves for hours and you think nothing of it? What kind of Auror are you?”

Ron clenched his fists and tried to rein over his temper. How dare this fucking idiot put his capabilities as an Auror in doubt?

“We have no proof he was doing anything illegal, Sir,” intervened Harry, speaking with more serenity than Ron would have managed. “We’re sure he is simply a friend or an acquaintance, but —”

“Oh, you’re sure!” exclaimed Gallory, raising his hands. “Well, if the Chosen One is sure, then we should leave him alone!”

Ron could stand having The Wanker yell at him. It was difficult, but he could. But to insult Harry in such a way?

“That is out of line, _Sir_ ,” he warned Gallory in a menacing tone and narrowing his eyes.

Gallory threw him a murderous glare. “Last time I checked, Weasley, it was _I_ who was in charge here, so I shall be the one to say what’s out of line! And letting the main suspect in the most important case in months Disapparate without doing anything is certainly out of line! Where did he go, eh? Do you know!?” he shouted.

“No, we don’t,” replied Ron.

“Sir, we had no right to have him tracked, so there was no way we could have followed him. He wasn’t doing anything illegal leaving his house. But, in any case, we took a photo of his friend —”

“Well, at least the Ministry gets something in exchange for paying you,” said Gallory scathingly. “Reveal that photo and send it to me right now. Tomorrow I’ll give it to someone more competent, someone able to tell me who that man is.”

“More competent?” asked Ron, not bothering to disguise how furious he felt.

“Yeah, Weasley, more competent! Someone who became who joined this corps the way it must be done! Someone worth of the honour of being called and Auror! Do you get it?” he yelled. And before he any of them could reply, spoke again. “I want you out of here. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, to decide what to do with you two, as you’ve proven yourselves quite useless in this case. We’ll also deal with your blatant lack of respect, Weasley,” he spat, red in the face. “You’re dismissed,” he added, and turned to open a drawer in a filing cabinet.

Ron and Harry left the office in silence, though he was swearing inwardly. Despite how angry Gallory was, Ron knew that, at least in part, he was happy for having a reason to yell at them.

Harry and Ron revealed the photo from Harry’s spynoculars. He sent it to Gallory’s office, but not before making a copy for himself.

“What are you doing?” asked Ron.

“Keeping a copy for us. Who knows, it might prove useful,” Harry told him, his voice full of mischief. Ron stared at him disbelievingly. Not because he didn’t approve of keeping a copy of the photo, but at his friend’s attitude. He could still feel his blood boil after the meeting with The Wanker and Harry was _enjoying_ this? After the way he had talked to them?

“Let’s got to your house and have dinner, Ron. I’m famished.”

When they exited the fireplace at Row House, their senses noticed two different things, though both cheered them up a bit: one was the sound of Hermione and Ginny’s chatter, coming from the kitchen; the other, the scent of delicious food. At once, Ron’s eyes darted towards the large dinner placed in one side of the room, which they only used when someone came to visit. It was already laid and there were appetizers waiting. He felt his mouth water at the sight.

After getting rid of their robes quickly, eager to enjoy dinner and the company of the most important women of their lives, they walked to the kitchen and found the two girls cutting the roasted pork with potatoes Ginny had prepared.

“Hi,” said Ron, glancing at the heavenly-smelling meat before moving towards Hermione. She smiled at him and they kissed briefly while Harry embraced his wife. Then Ron looked at his sister.

“Ginny, you must know you’re the best sister ever,” he declared, throwing more side glances to the mouth-watering dish.

“And you’re still the same prat you’ve always been,” she replied. “You could think with something else than your bottomless stomach, you know.”

Ron smiled. “Hey, I’m glad about having you here, the food is just — well, an added benefit.”

“Sure, sure,” said Ginny, shaking her head, although she was smiling.

“And — how is my future godson?” he asked her, lowering his eyes to her protruding belly.

“He’s going to be a beater and is already practicing with my kidney,” she complained. “Other than that, he’s fine. And so am I, thanks for asking,” she added sarcastically.

“Enough with the sibling banter,” intervened Harry. “I’m hungry and thirsty. Can we get to dinner, please?”

Ron grinned and gave Ginny a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, we’ve already exchanged pleasantries, so we can sit down and enjoy this piece or art,” he said, turning to look at his fiancé and best friend.

They moved back to the living room, sat at the table and started with the appetizers while Ron poured them wine and water. After a few minutes in which they just savoured the food mainly in silence — except for some comments about how tasty everything was — Hermione looked at Ron and Harry.

“So — how was your day?” she asked.

“Shitty,” responded Ron dryly. “Only today Goyle decided to go out with a friend and The Wanker almost cursed us for letting him get out of our sight,” he summarised.

“The Wanker?” asked Ginny, furrowing her brows. “Who’s that? Gallory?” she asked, looking between Harry and Ron.

Harry chuckled while nodding. “Yeah, it’s his new nickname.”

Hermione, instead of sharing the others’ amusement, was looking at Ron with a frown. “But — what could you have done? You’ve got no reason that justifies putting a Tracking Spell on him, and without that you cannot know where he went. Did Gallory expect you to break the rules without a good reason?”

“He just wanted to yell at us, Hermione,” said Harry calmly.

“Which he did. And tomorrow we have another meeting with him. Apparently, we’re useless and my — what was it? ‘ _blatant lack of respect’_?” he asked, glancing at Harry, and he nodded. “Well, my ‘blatant lack of respect’ must be dealt with,” he finished grumpily.

“Oh, Ron, you didn’t shout at him, did you?” Hermione asked with a moan.

“Well, I wasn’t going to, but when he used the words ‘Chosen One’ to insult Harry I just couldn’t help myself.”

“He did not!” exclaimed Ginny, her previous amusement quickly giving way to anger.

“It’s okay, Ginny. I don’t care,” said Harry dismissively.

“Well, I do,” retorted Ron.

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of pity and exasperation and Ron took another sip of his wine. He knew he still had problems controlling his temper sometimes, but he was only human, and he had put up with as much from The Wanker as he could.

“And who was Goyle’s friend?” asked Ginny, trying to change the subject a bit. “I was under the impression his only ‘friends’ were Draco Malfoy and that other bulky brute — what was his name?”

“Crabbe,” responded Harry. “He died during the battle.”

“After trying to burn us alive,” added Ron with a grunt.

“He was friendly with Zabini and Nott as well, but I suppose his circle has changed a bit,” explained Harry. “Crabbe died and the Malfoys do no longer associate with their previous friends, so I imagine Goyle had to make new acquaintances. Anyway, I’ve got a photo of him.” He summoned it from his robes and showed it to the girls.

“Haven’t ever seen him,” said Ginny. She looked at Hermione. “What about you?”

Hermione shook her head. “No idea.”

“Didn’t expect you to know, but it was worth a try,” said Harry, putting the image away.

They moved to the main course and the talk died as they enjoyed the juicy roasted pork. Ron praised his sister’s cooking again and she scoffed, though she looked rather pleased with herself. Harry just beamed at her.

“I told you, if she keeps improving her cooking with the help of your mother, I’m gonna end up as a fat, lazy Auror.”

“Don’t you dare, Potter. I like you fit and strong,” Ginny teased, a wicked smile on her face as she stared at Harry with hunger.

“Oh, please!” moaned Ron, shaking his head.

“Get over it, Ron,” blurted out Ginny. “Harry didn’t knock me up with Magic — though, it was rather magical what we did. There certainly were sparks …”

“Well, I don’t need to hear that!” Ron exclaimed in disgust while the other three laughed at his discomfort.

Still chuckling, they continued eating, the conversation moving to lighter topics. Finally, after the delicious and fulfilling dinner, Ron and Harry took the dirty plates and cutlery to the kitchen and Ron prepared tea while Harry grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and some glasses and teacups. Then they joined the women at the sitting area of the living room. Ginny had settled on the couch and Hermione was sitting on one of the armchairs, a leg tucked under her while she looked at some notes.

“What’s that?” asked Ron.

“The notes I took when I read the case file,”

“Oh, yeah,” nodded Ron, who had forgotten about that. Then, understanding all she had said, he gave her an incredulous look as he sat down on the armchair next to hers. “You took _notes_?”

“Yes, Ronald,” she said, a hint of exasperation on her voice. From the corner of his eye, Ron saw his best mate smile.

“Well, what did you find?” asked Harry, passing her a cup. Hermione thanked him and took a sip of her tea before answering.

“The first victim, Amelia Notte — the Muggle — was attacked on the fourth, that it is, last Wednesday. A friend went to check on her because she hadn’t gone to work and wasn’t answering her phone. She had a key, but couldn’t use it on the door because the door was locked from the inside. After ringing for a while and not receiving any answer, she called the police, who broke into the flat. They found Amelia unconscious on the floor, with the letters ‘GG’ carved on her forehead. The entire flat was in complete disarray. As they couldn’t explain how that attacker or attackers had got into the flat or how the wound on her forehead had been made, our contacts in the Muggle police alerted the Ministry and Auror Ada Ladnus was sent to investigate —”

“Hermione, we already know all that,” protested Ron, interrupting her.

“I’m just summarising the facts, Ron,” Hermione replied without looking up. “As I was saying — Auror Ladnus was assigned to investigate, and then Amelia was translated to St Mungo, as traces of Dark Magic were found on her. However, no one was able to identify the curse that had put her in such a state. Four days later — that is, last Sunday — Isabelle Fawley (née Nott) was found in the same state by her husband. Again, the inside of the house had been destroyed, though, apparently, the attacker or attackers didn’t take anything with them.”

“Then, on Monday, Gallory assigned us to watch Goyle, as he considered him the prime suspect because he had ended his probatory period just a few days before the first attack,” completed Harry.

“Yes,” nodded Hermione. “And regarding the question of the attacker or attackers, there is no hint that points to him as the culprit — or to anyone else, in fact. The current evidence does not point to any suspect at all.”

“So, Gallory having us following Goyle —?” asked Ron, hopeful.

“Sorry, Ron, but he’s not breaking any rule. It’s usual that people with a criminal record are followed or watched after a crime is committed. He hasn’t asked you to do anything illegal, so there is nothing that can be done, at least from a legal standpoint.”

“Wonderful,” groaned Ron.

“However,” continued Hermione, “having you two just watching Goyle instead of actually helping the investigation could be considered bad praxis, if Goyle is proven innocent. And if there is another attack, he could be accused of negligence, as some people could consider that his obsession with Goyle prevented the Aurors from discovering the true attacker.”

“That’s good, Hermione, but it doesn’t help us right now.”

“I know, I know, just let me finish,” she said, and made brief pause before taking another piece of parchment. “I knew that Kingsley had made very important changes in his first year at the office, so I decided to take a look at the current regulations, as I knew that Kingsley had promoted a new Internal Code of Conduct for all Ministry employees. Its purpose, in short, is to prevent officials from being forced to carry unethical or even unlawful orders from their superiors. And it has an annex concerning the Aurors and the Law Enforcement Squad: it allows and encourages them to act on their own if they feel something illegal is happening or a crime is being committed. The Auror main order is to uphold the law and protect the innocent. And that order can overrule any other, even a direct one from a superior. There are obvious exceptions, but they are mainly related to behaviour in combat during a mission.” She stopped talking and looked at Ron. “That’s why Robards always tells you to have initiative, Ron. It’s part of your duty, what you’re supposed to do. And it makes sense that he tells you that because he worked on those changes with Kingsley, after all.”

“So we can disobey The Wanker?” asked Ron, hopeful.

“Mmmh, not exactly,” answered Hermione. Then another thought seemed to cross his mind and she narrowed her eyes at Harry and Ron. “By the way, you two _should_ know this,” she added, her tone reproachful.

“Well, now that you mention it, I remember reading those regulations, long ago. And we know them, Hermione — at least the main parts — but those technical articles, with all the legal nonsense are hard to remember, you know,” said Harry.

“Yeah, and you explain the meanings much better, Love,” added Ron, trying to appease her.

“Humm,” said Hermione, not convinced, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“And you’re supposed to be the two most promising Aurors!” she exclaimed, shaking her head.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re idiots,” said Ron, waving his hand impatiently and eager to continue. He stared at Hermione. “Why do you say we cannot disobey The Wanker, then?”

“The Code of Conduct doesn’t allow you to ignore orders, except it they’re clearly illegal or blatantly go against the interest of the society, be it magical or Muggle. But it means Gallory cannot really forbid you from investigating, even if you’re not assigned to the case, or that part of the case. You should be discreet about it, though.”

“Why?” asked Harry. “If we are allowed …”

“You must have a justification, if Gallory accuses you of insubordination or interfering with another Auror’s work,” explained Hermione. “Of course, if that happens, the legal division will intervene. If your actions are justified, you’ll be fine. But it’s important that you have evidence that supports your actions, so I suggest you to write everything you might find.”

“When you say the legal division, it would mean you?” Ron asked, smiling hopefully. Oh, it’d be amazing, seeing Hermione destroy Gallory the way he had seen her do at some of the trials in which she had taken part.

“Sorry, Ron, but no. You’re my fiancé, so that’d be a conflict of interest. But you don’t have to worry, I know all the people that work in there, and they are all fair and capable.”

“Well, those are good news,” said Harry. “But, as you say, we have nothing, except for our suspicion that the two women must be connected in some way. Is there anything about that in the file?”

“Not really,” said Hermione, looking down at her notes. “Isabelle Nott — or well, Fawley — is the only daughter of Amadeus Nott, second of the three children of Anticus Nott. Callum, Theodore’s father, is the youngest. As you know, he’s serving a life sentence in Azkaban, but neither Amadeus or Calista, the eldest sister, were accused of being Death Eaters. They were investigated after the war and they don’t have the Dark Mark.”

“Isabelle is older than us, isn’t she?” asked Harry. “I don’t remember her from Hogwarts.”

“She’s thirty-two now,” answered Hermione. “She was in her seventh year when we were in our first.” She made a brief pause and then continued, “Regarding Amelia Notte, she works as director of human resources in Sachs and Taffer ltd., a medium-sized company that makes furniture for offices. There is no apparent relation between her and anyone from the wizarding world.”

“What about her surname, then?” inquired Ron. “Is it just a coincidence?”

“There’s not much information about that. Her mother, Angelica Weer, is alive, but her father, Robert Notte, died in a car accident three years ago.”

“Mmmh,” said Harry, thoughtful. “And what about Robert’s parents?”.

“There’s nothing about that in the file. Maybe Ladnus didn’t investigate that.”

“Well, someone should, don’t you think, Ron?” asked Harry, a spark of excitement in his eyes.

“Someone should,” agreed Ron, and took a sip of his firewhiskey, wishing he could feel the same emotion as his friend.

“There is nothing in the file about interrogating their families?” asked Ginny.

“Just the usual questions, but nothing or relevance. Whether the victims had enemies, if the letters ‘GG’ meant anything to them and so on, but they didn’t seem to know anything. Or, if they do, they didn’t tell.”

“So we haven’t got any real clue except for the similarity in their surnames and the scar on their foreheads,” summarised Harry.

“Yes, so it seems,” nodded Hermione. “There is also the fact that both are women and neither had children. However, as I said, Isabelle is married — to Alfred Fawley — but Amelia was single and, apparently, wasn’t involved with anyone.”

“Well, we’ll start with that, then, and see where it takes us,” announced Harry resolutely. He finished his firewhiskey and yawned, his eyes darting to the wall clock Ron’s parents had given to Ron and Hermione as present. “We should get going, Gin. It’s getting late and I imagine you’re tired.”

“I’m fine, Harry,” replied Ginny, who looked rather comfortable on the couch. “If you want to go to bed and rest, say so, do not use me as an excuse,” she added, teasing her husband.

Harry shook his head, amused. “Okay, yeah. I’m bloody tired. Can we go?”

“Of course, dear,” said Ginny in a fake docile tone.

The four of them got up and said their goodbyes in front of the fireplace.

“Hermione, I’ll attend your presentation before the Wizengamot on Friday,” said Ginny.

“Ginny, I already told you it’s not necessary,” Hermione said, touched. “It’ll probably be a long meeting and they aren’t even going to vote it.”

“I don’t care,” replied Ginny. “It’s such an important law and you’ve been working towards it for a long time. Besides, I am already tired of being at home. Ron, if I don’t see you in there, I’ll see you at The Burrow on Sunday?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron.

“See you tomorrow, Mate,” said Harry. “Can you go a bit earlier? Let’s meet before our reunion with Gallory.”

“Okay,” nodded Ron. Harry kissed Hermione’s cheek and then he and Ginny were gone.

Ron and Hermione finished cleaning and then went to their room. Ron took off his clothes, leaving only his pants, while Hermione was in the bathroom, and then went in to brush his teeth. When he got out, Hermione was at the dresser, clad in just her pyjama shorts and her bra, which she was taking out. Ron licked his lips and approached her, embracing her from behind and cupping her tits.

“Mmmh,” he moaned, watching himself touch her in the mirror.

“Ron, it is necessary that your hands are, almost always, on my breasts?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Absolutely,” he said, placing a kiss on her slender neck. “You know what I always say, your tits —”

“ _— should be the most touched and worshipped ones in the world, awesome as they are_. Yes, I know,” she said, shaking her head.

“And you love having them touched, don’t you?” he whispered into her ear, squeezing both mounds of flesh softly but eagerly.

“I do,” she nodded, tilting her head to the side to give him access as he continued to kiss her neck. “And I don’t mind when we’re at home — even if sometimes you distract me when I’m doing other things — but you do that even at your parents’ — or mine!”

“Sorry, love, but I just can’t resist them. Your tits are simply amazing. And just for the record, I am not _always_ touching them.”

“Well, yes, you don’t touch them when you have your hands on my bum.”

Ron shrugged. “Well, your bum is amazing as well, so it’s not my fault.”

“You’re such a pervert.”

“Yeah, but you already knew that when we got engaged. And I’d say that It’s one my most wonderful qualities,” he joked.

Hermione laughed and then turned around in his arms. Ron had to release her breasts, so he settled on her bum, causing her to give him a look that exclaimed, ‘you see what I say?’

Ron just shrugged. “Sorry. I just can’t resist you, Love. You’re just too damn sexy and hot.”

Hermione let out a chuckle and then Ron leaned in to kiss her. They kissed softly for a bit, his hands on her ass and waist, hers on his pecs, until they pulled away really slowly, Ron grasping her upper lip between his teeth and pulling a bit.

“You know that I love that, don’t you?” she asked.

“What, kissing me?” he asked. “I hope so, as you’ve been doing that — and quite a lot — for six years.”

“Idiot,” she said, smacking his chest playfully. “No, I mean the fact that you can’t resist me, that you’re always groping me. I love feeling desired by you.”

Ron kissed her again. “Then you’ll be very happy, Hermione, ‘cause I desire you all the time,” he stated, and then kissed her again, turning the kiss into a full snog. He squeezed her tits once more and then, forcefully, yanked her shorts and knickers down. She whimpered into his mouth, but he just deepened the kiss, his hands moving to her now naked ass to squeeze the supple, round flesh there. His cock hardened completely and, overcome by his need of her, he grabbed her by the waist and sat her on top of the dresser.

“Ron!” she protested

But Ron didn’t respond. He pushed her thighs open and she shook her right leg to disentangle her foot from her shorts and panties. Then he got between her open legs, his tented crotch coming in contact with her hot, already slick pussy. He ground against her and they both moaned. Sometimes, being so tall was a pain in the ass, but for things like having sex on top of dressers and tables it was a definitive perk.

“Take my cock out,” he ordered against her mouth. Hermione whimpered again and quickly moved her hands to his pants. She shoved the right one under the fabric and grasped his prick, stroking it eagerly. “Ahh, yeah, yeah, Hermione … Now guide me in.”

Hermione lowered the front of his pants and moved his cock so the tip brushed against her clit. She moaned and moved it again in circles, effectively masturbating using his dick.

Ron groaned and moved his mouth to her neck. “You like that, uh?” he asked. “You like using my cock to rub your clit. Does it turn you on, Hermione?”

“Yes, Ron, yes … I can’t explain it, it’s just so arousing using it like that.”

“But I don’t want you to cum like this, not tonight. You’ll cum while I pound you hard, clenching my cock and milking me into your greedy cunt.”

“You’ve got such a foul mouth,” she whispered, her voice weak due to her agitated breathing.

“And you love it as much as my wandering hands or my cock,” he replied, sucking on her neck.

“I must — _mmmh_ — be completely insane … Gods, Ron …” she moaned.

“Good, sane people are so boring,” he said, and then took her earlobe into his mouth and bit on it, effectively silencing her. He moved back to her neck, his hands still moving between her hips and her tits, and then retreated so she couldn’t touch herself with his member anymore. Hermione bucked her hips a bit, wanton, and pointed lower. Then she pulled on his so the tip was just between her hot, wet folds.

“Now, Ron. Push.”

Ron grabbed her hips and, moving his head back to be able to look into her eyes, thrust forwards. Hard.

Hermione’s eyes rolled in her sockets as she let out a loud, incredibly erotic moan. Ron groaned as well, enjoying the amazing sensation of being balls deep in her tight, hot pussy, her muscles stretching deliciously around him. He stood still for a bit, savouring the sensation while he caressed her sides, and then pulled back until only the tip was inside. She looked into his eyes, her own darkened with lust and desire. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, as they just enjoyed their union, and then Ron thrust once more and began to fuck her in earnest, the dresser hitting the wall with each forceful push.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Hermione … so good … I just wanna get lost in your tight, perfect body … Oh fuck …”

“Yes, Ron, yes, keep going like that. Just like that!”

Ron groaned and pressed his forehead against her as he moved inside her faster and harder. Tomorrow was going to be another shitty day, and he probably would have to bite his tongue to avoid lashing at The Wanker, but for now he just wanted to forget. He wanted to get lost in the pleasure of Hermione’s body. Just love her and caress her and fuck her and not think about anything else …

Wanting to feel more, he moved one hand to her tits and pinched one nipple before squeezing the entire mound, causing her to squeal in pleasure. She clenched her muscles around him and gripped his shoulders harder, bucking her own hips to counter his thrusts. Her moans increased in volume and he knew she was getting closer.

“You’re going to come already, Hermione? Gonna cum all around my cock?”

“Yes, Ron, yes, I’m getting there. Gods, it feels so good, so unbelievably good. Touch me, please. Touch me all over!”

Ron groaned and kissed her forcefully, drowning in her taste and her delicious smell and the amazing way she felt against and around him. He kneaded her tit and her ass, keeping her as close to her as possible as he fucker as fast and hard as he could, grateful that she was just there, ‘cause he wasn’t going to last.

“Mmmmh, mmffffhhh,” moaned Hermione against his mouth. Ron thrust his tongue into hers and she sucked on it as her entire body convulsed, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his aching dick as she came strongly.

“Yes, yes, like that, like that, Love, cum for me like that,” he whispered as he kept thrusting, enjoying the added tightness immensely. Hermione’s loud moans turned into soft whimpers as her orgasm ebbed away, her body sagging against the mirror.

But Ron was not done. In desperate need of cumming, he lifted her body once more, with his cock still inside. Letting out a yell of surprise, she held onto his shoulders while he spun them around and then put her on the bed, with him on top, and resumed fucking her as hard as he could, supporting his weight with one hand while he groped her tits with the other.

“Hermione, fuuuuuck …”

Hermione arched her back in pleasure and moved on hand to caress his cheek. “Like that, Ron, like that! Cum for me. Cum inside me …”

“Oh, shiiiiit!” he yelled, clenching his teeth as the band holding his orgasm snapped and he exploded, filling her pussy up with spurts and spurts of his cum. “Fuck … Oh, fuck, Hermione …” he moaned, lying on top of her body and burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Fuck, I love you so much … I wanna stay inside you forever, fucking you and cumming in you …”

Hermione let out a laugh and gave him a kiss. “That’d be a bit impractical, I think. But it’s just four months and half until our wedding, and then we’ll have two entire weeks just for us. No cases, no bosses, no worries. Just you and me.”

“That sounds so amazing …” he whispered, his tone full of longing.

She caressed his hair lovingly and kissed his forehead. “I love you so much, Ron. And I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of you agree with Ron about Gallory being a wanker. He is, but remember that every character has motivations for their actions, even if they look alien to us. And he really believes Goyle’s the criminal, even if his views are biased.  
> I hope you liked the chapter and tell me what you think so far.  
> Next story to be updated will be Discovering Ourselves, next weekend, so watch out for it.


	3. All Good Things Come to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron meet with their boss, which brings an unexpected and shocking change to their life as Aurors. Meanwhile, there's a new attack that makes the case even more mysterious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next chapter! Another massive one. Definitively, I can’t write short ones.  
> In fact, I said in chapter one that this story would be six or seven chapters long, but I’ve been working a lot in it and it’ll probably have more, around nine or ten at least.  
> Now I won’t bore you more. I hope you like this chapter, as it gives us more insight into some characters.  
> It also deals with some sensitive topics, so be warned.

“Can you start breakfast while I shower?” Hermione asked him the next morning. “Then you can have yours while I clean up.”

“I’d rather share that shower with you.”

Hermione smiled. “That’d be lovely, but you told Harry you’d be at work a bit earlier, remember?”

Ron groaned. “I’m with Harry the entire day, so I’d rather spend a bit more time with you. I’d repay what you did to me yesterday and eat you out really good …”

“Tempting,” said Hermione, “but we both know we end up losing the track of time and we can’t. We can share that shower tonight if you want.”

“Okaaay …” Ron said, conceding defeat. “But I’m holding you to that promise!” Hermione threw him a kiss and got into the bathroom, already naked. Ron went to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast, his mind wandering back to the shower and his fiancé’s hot, naked, wet body …

He felt his cock stir and shook his head, focusing on the eggs. If his mind kept following that path, he would end up daydreaming and burning their breakfast, which would be a bad start for a day that already promised to be horrid. He was just buttering Hermione’s toast the way she liked when she stepped into the kitchen, already impeccably dressed like the high ranked official she was.

“Mmmh, Ron, it smells amazing. I’m so hungry.”

“Well, tuck in, then,” he said, pushing the plate towards her and sitting down as well. They both delved into their breakfasts.

“If The Wanker doesn’t send us after Goyle once more, can we eat lunch together?” he asked her after a bit.

She thought about it as she chewed and then swallowed. “I don’t know. I’ll be rather busy today, but I’ll let you know when I take my break. It’ll probably be short, in any case.”

Ron nodded, finishing his eggs. He swallowed, rather audibly, and got up, emptying his glass of pumpkin juice as he did. “Gonna take that shower then.”

“Okay, I’ll clean here meanwhile. Thanks for the food, Love.”

Ron grinned and bent over to kiss the top of her head before exiting the kitchen.

Twenty-five minutes later they were walking into their department. They stopped in front of the Auror Office and they kissed each other goodbye.

“Good luck with Gallory,” she whispered, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Thank you. Have a good day. And don’t worry about the presentation.”

Hermione left and Ron went to his cubicle, expecting to find Harry in there, but he wasn’t in either one of their cubicles. Ron shrugged, and sat down on his chair to wait for his friend. He had just done so when Arnold Cabbage, a fellow Auror, walked in.

“Hey, Weasley,”

“Cabbage,” responded Ron, turning round and looking up at him.

“Gallory asked me to tell you to go to his office as soon as you came,” he told Ron.

Ron let out an imperceptible groan and nodded. “What are you doing here so early, by the way?” he asked.

Cabbage furrowed his brows. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know — what?” Ron asked, a sudden fear twisting his gut.

“There was another attack yesterday. A man.”

“A man?” repeated Ron, surprised. “Not a woman?”

“No, a man,” confirmed Cabbage.

“Fuck,” said Ron, his head spinning. So gender plays no role, then … But this thought was suddenly replaced by the image of Goyle leaving with that blonde guy. Surely they weren’t to —? And what if he _really_ was? “You sure it was the same attacker.”

“Yes. The same pattern: he had the letters ‘GG’ carved on his forehead and was in a sort of coma.”

“Shit,” said Ron, and got up. “I’d better go, then.”

“Good luck,” said Cabbage, a trace of sympathy in his voice.

Ron crossed the cubicle area almost running and then took the corridor that led to Gallory’s office. The door was open and Harry was already inside, sitting on a chair. He was alone and looked rather antsy.

“Do you know?” Ron asked him, walking into the office.

Harry nodded grimly. “Yeah.”

“Where’s The — Gallory?”

“Left a couple of minutes ago. Told me to wait here.” Harry stared intently into Ron’s eyes. “Ron, you’d better control yourself. He’s rather angry.”

“I —” Ron started to say, but Ron couldn’t finish, as, in that precise moment, Gallory walked in, a scowl on his face. He rounded his desk and dropped onto his chair rather violently. Then he focused on Harry and Ron, glaring.

“I imagine you know what happened, don’t you, Weasley?” he asked rather harshly.

Ron swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “Yes, Sir. Another attack.”

“Another attack,” he repeated. “A wizard named John Malbard was found by his girlfriend, unconscious at their home at half-past seven, when she came home from her shift at St Mungo’s. He hadn’t started dinner, which he usually did, so he had been unconscious for hours. And, what a coincidence!” he exclaimed, giving Ron and Harry a scathing look. “The main suspect, the one you claim has nothing to do with this, had got out of your sight hours before, and came back at half-past six. So, while John Malbard was attacked, no one knew where he was!”

“Sir …” started to say Harry.

“Shut up, Potter! It’s your fault this happened. I told you to catch him, but you didn’t even try, sure as you were that he wasn’t involved! Because, of course, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley cannot be wrong!”

“But Sir, what could we have done? We had no proof, no —”

“If you really tried to do your job, you’d have found the way! You are war heroes, yeah, but here you’re just unprepared Aurors, and this proves it! You think you’re over the rules, especially you, Weasley, who have no regard at all for the chain of command!” He made a pause and breathed deeply before continuing. “You’re too full of yourselves, too confident, too accustomed to do things your own way. Well, you’re no longer students. This is the Auror Office and things are done in a certain way. So, from now on, you’re no longer a team.”

“WHAT!?” shouted Ron, completely shocked. Besides him, Harry was watching Gallory open-mouthed.

“What you’ve heard!” Gallory yelled. “And you’ll let me finish before you open your gobs! I’m done with the special treatment regarding you both and your attitudes. Weasley, you’ll be reassigned to cubicle 17, far from Potters. Due to your constant insubordinations, you’ll be revising all the paperwork and reporting work until further notice. Potter, you’ll be assigned to patrolling, under the supervision of Jennings. Report to her in ten minutes.”

Ron and Harry could only stare at their temporary boss, too astounded to speak.

“Weasley, move your things right now. I’ll get your assignments delivered to your new cubicle,” continued The Wanker. “And now get out of my sight before I suspend you both for a week!” he finished with a shout.

Ron and Harry got up quickly and left, shocked and still processing what had just happened.

He and Harry were no longer working together. For the first time in the fifteen years they had known each other, they weren’t partners.

“I — I can’t believe what he did,” commented Harry when they had reached their cubicles. He dropped onto his chair, dejected. “Patrolling,” he muttered, shaking his head, and then looked up at Ron. “He assigned you to paperwork. Ron, he knows that’s what you hate the most.”

“I suppose that’s why he did it,” he said, in an oddly calm voice. He expected himself to be angry, but he was too shocked. What had happened hadn’t still sunk into his brain.

“Fuck!” shouted Harry angrily. “Fuck!”

They fell silent for a while, neither knowing what to say.

“I’d better move my things,” Ron blurted out after a bit. “I — I —”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry.

Ron left Harry’s cubicle and used his wand to vanish his things to cubicle 17. When this one was clear, he just stared at the empty desk, feeling an overwhelming wave of sadness. This had been his workplace for five years. This and Harry’s cubicle, as they used to sit together at all times, either planning, talking or working on reports. But no longer.

“I’m going to talk to Sheila, then. About the patrolling,” he heard Harry say. He turned and saw him in the entrance, looking miserable. Ron just nodded. “Let’s meet for lunch, okay?” he suggested, and Ron nodded again. “See you, Ron.”

“See you, Harry.”

It wasn’t as if they weren’t going to see each other again. After all, his new cubicle was only twenty-five yards away from Harry’s, but, in a way, it felt as the end of an era. As if the world had changed.

Ron walked towards his new cubicle like an inferius, and then dropped onto his new chair, which, despite being identical to his old one, felt foreign and strange.

Going into the Auror Office, both Harry and he knew there were chances they wouldn’t be working as partners, but, deep down, none of them had really believed they wouldn’t. And effectively, after completing their time as Aurors in practice, they had been put in the same team, because they worked seamlessly together. Harry was still the best at Defence against the Dark Arts, something he had proven during the accelerated course. He had a natural leadership and really good instincts when it came to fighting evil wizards. Ron had found his own place as well, using his strategic mind to plan the attack before going on a raid. Once out there, Harry took the lead role, which was his thing. Together, they communicated without words and worked as one, after so many years together. It was what had made them so successful in their careers. And now that was over. And for something that wasn’t even their fault!

Or — was it?

Was the fact that Goyle had left yesterday just a coincidence? He had been so sure he wasn’t guilty, but now even the fact that the curse used against the victims was such an advanced one couldn’t exonerate him — that could have been done by the blonde guy.

“Shit …” he muttered. Had they allowed the attack to happen, by dismissing Goyle as threat? Had they been too overconfident? And who was the man attacked? How was all of this connected?

He could sense a headache coming and rubbed his eyes tirelessly, wishing he could go see Hermione and ask her to leave for a few days. But he needed confirmation to go on holiday, and Hermione had the presentation tomorrow, so it was just wishful thinking.

“Everything’s so fucked up,” he said to himself. And just then, a pile of reports appeared on top of his desk. There must be two dozens of them. “Bloody fuck,” he swore. He took the first of them and hit his head against the desk a few times.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” someone asked from behind him. Ron turned round on his chair and saw Ada Ladnus staring at him with interest, though she looked rather tired. Ron’s ears turned pink in embarrassment.

“Just a bad day,” he said, and then, to change the subject away from him, asked, “Rough night, eh?”

“So you’ve heard,” said Ada, sighing. “Yes, it was rather hard. Anyway — what are you doing here? This is not your cubicle.”

Ron lowered his eyes. “I’m no longer Harry’s partner. Gallory separated us. And breaking up our team wasn’t enough, it seems, so he put us away physically.”

“What?” she asked, shocked. “But — why? I mean, you’re really good together!”

“We failed to prove Goyle’s guilty of the attacks and yesterday he left the house with another guy. Apparently, he was out while the attack took place.”

“Ah, yeah,” she nodded, understanding. “He has been rather — _adamant_ about him.”

“I was sure this had nothing to do with him, but now I’m not so sure. If there’s another person involved …”

“If it means anything to you, I haven’t found any evidence pointing to him, either, except for the letters ‘GG.’ But Gallory is obsessed with him.”

“Yeah.”

Ada stared at him for a few moments, as if pondering something, and then blurted out, “Let’s go and have a coffee, Ron. I need one, and I think you need some air as well.”

“If Gallory sees me already skiving off my assignment, he’ll have my bollocks.”

“He left just now. He has a meeting with Knowton and the Minister later, so we’ve got time. We can tell Harry if he wants to come, as well.”

“He’s been assigned to patrolling with Jennings.”

Ada raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Harry Potter, _patrolling_?”

“Yeah.”

Ada let out a whistle of disbelief, and shook her head before saying, “Well, do you want to come anyway?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. If The Wanker knew, he might even fire him … But, in that moment, Ron wouldn’t have minded one bit if that happened.

They took a lift to the Atrium and then exited the Ministry. They cast charms so Muggles would see them dressed like them instead of in robes, and went to a near Muggle pub that many wizards frequented when they didn’t want to use the Ministry’s canteen or wanted to go to Diagon Alley.

After hurrying to get inside to avoid the incessant rain, they sat down next to a window, in a corner, and ordered. A black coffee for Ada, a white one with double sugar for Ron.

“So, this time it was a man, then?” asked Ron.

Ada nodded.

“Sorry, I know we’re not in the case. If Gallory knew you are telling us, he’d be furious.”

“You’ve got clearance, Ron, and it’s not a top-secret case, so he can’t really forbid me from telling you about it.”

“I know, but well, I don’t want to get you in trouble — or give him another reason to yell at me.”

“I never had the impression it affected you much, when he yells,” she commented, smirking.

Ron was about to answer, but the waiter came with their coffees. Ada paid, despite Ron’s protests, and then waited to be alone once more.

“Well, it’s not that I really care much, but I fear at some point I’ll end up cursing him. Or punching him,” he added as an afterthought, and Ada laughed. “I don’t understand him. I mean, why does he hate us so much? It’s just that we got in without the three-year course? He hates Goyle senior, shouldn’t he be grateful that we’d helped to get rid of Voldemort?”

Ada didn’t respond for a bit, apparently thinking how to answer. “Well, you know both his parents were Aurors, don’t you?”

“I might’ve heard that, yeah.”

“And so was his grandfather. He comes from a family of Aurors, so this is much more than a job for him. It’s his life. He is rather proud, you see, and, though he was happy that Voldemort was defeated, he felt humiliated by the fact that the Aurors had nothing to do with it. He — well, he couldn’t be at the battle, for obvious reasons.” Ron frowned at this, as he didn’t know what ‘obvious reasons’ were those, but, before he could ask, Ada continued talking. “In fact, none of us were, except for Shacklebolt and Tonks. We were supposed to protect Britain from the Dark Arts, and, instead, ended up supporting that tyranny. For Gallory, the fact that it was an army of civilians and students the ones to defeat him and that he couldn’t be there and take revenge was like a slap on the face. A dishonour to the institution he so loved. So when the Emergency Recruitment Act was approved, it was like the last blow. The Aurors who had got in the office the ‘right way’ were now being pushed aside by you. And it turned out you ended up doing an amazing job, and it was just worse.”

Ron nodded. “Well, that’s good, but — shouldn’t he get over his pride and be glad that Dark wizards were being defeated and imprisoned?”

“And he was, but sometimes pride is very difficult to overcome, Ron. But don’t let the way he treats you make you think he supports the Dark Arts or so — Nothing could be farther from the truth. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. His father was killed in the first war, and after what he endured during Thicknesse’s term of office I’m sure he wanted to be present and active in the demise of Voldemort.”

“And why didn’t he do anything, then?”

Ada stared at him. “Well — he did,” she said, in an odd tone.

Ron furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Wait a moment — You don’t know? Nothing?”

“No.”

“So — you don’t know why he hates Goyle so much, then?”

Ron shook his head. “I just know he’s obsessed with him. Always thought it was because Goyle was appointed as Head Auror and he, being the way he is, simply couldn’t get over that.”

“Well, it’s much more complicated than that. It was — What happened was, well, really gruesome.”

Ron stared at her, now very curious. “Tell me.”

Ada took a long sip of her coffee before starting. “It was a few weeks before the battle of Hogwarts. The very same day you broke into Gringotts, in fact. Goyle ordered one young Auror, Anders Foody, to find a wizard — I don’t remember his name — and to bring him to the Ministry. I don’t know what he was accused of. In any case, surely not a true crime, or anything really problematic for the Death Eaters. They used to take those matters into their own hands.”

“Yeah, I know,” nodded Ron, remembering the fight in the all-night café or the attack on the Lovegood house.

“Foody brought him as requested, and then Goyle ordered him to torture him for information. The poor lad had finished his training just the year before, he was really young, and was unable to do it. Goyle threatened to torture him if he didn’t obey. When Foody still couldn’t do it, Goyle used the Cruciatus Curse on him. After a bit, Foody tried to retaliate, and Goyle … Well, he just set him on fire.”

“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Ron, appalled.

“Yeah,” nodded Ada sadly. “Gallory saw that and intervened, saving him, and attacked Goyle. Well, as you can imagine, Goyle didn’t take it well. He was caught by surprise, but other Death Eaters soon helped him, disarming Gallory.” At this point, Ada sighed, shaking her head. “I felt so ashamed of myself that day, Ron. If we all had joined the fight, we could have overthrown Goyle and the other Death Eaters. But we were unsure, and afraid. They had reports with the names of our families, and we weren’t sure how many of our own fellow Aurors would help us or them. So we didn’t do anything, and then it was just too late.

“With Gallory subdued, Goyle felt so humiliated he wanted to make an example out of him. He ordered him to kneel in front of him, to lick his boots and to beg for forgiveness. Gallory refused to do it.”

“He refused?” asked Ron, surprised. “Well, he had bollocks,” he added, his opinion of the man now much more favourable than ten minutes before.

“I told you, he is a very proud man. He wasn’t going to kneel before those who had killed his father, whom he admired very much. Goyle was ready to torture him, but then Yaxley came, asking for every Auror available. And you must know that by then, there were few of us. Some had been forced to flee, like Shacklebolt, others had been imprisoned, and others had been suspended. and everybody was required in Diagon Alley, so there we went. You had already fled when we came, but still. Afterwards, as Yaxley had heard about the insubordination, he fired him and sent him home.”

“So he got off without being punished?” asked Ron, not understanding.

Ada’s expression flickered for a moment. “You have never met Gallory’s wife, haven’t you?”

“No,” answered Ron, wondering why that had to do with anything else.

“And you’ve never wondered why he never brings her to the ceremonies or other important events?”

Ron shrugged. “I never thought about it, to be honest.”

Ada let out a sight and looked down, at her mug. “He got away without an official punishment, yes. But Goyle was not one to let an offense go without retribution. So that very night, he and other two Death Eaters went to their home, beat him, and — and —”

“And what?” asked Ron, fearing the answer.

“They raped his wife. The three of them, and forced him to watch, too hurt to do anything about it.”

“Fucking hell!” shouted Ron, drawing attention from other clients.

“That never appeared on official reports. Apparently Gallory’s wife didn’t want anyone to know, and, as Goyle was caught during the battle of Hogwarts and he was already going to spend his life in Azkaban, mentioning that in a trial wouldn’t change anything. But, for what I know, she never recovered completely from that ordeal. That’s why she never goes out in public.”

“Bloody fucking fuck …” muttered Ron, horrified. It was no wonder he hated Goyle so much. He wanted to destroy his family just like the Death Eater had destroyed his. “And he never could get his revenge because he wasn’t at the battle,” he added as an afterthought, now understanding everything. “We defeated the Death Eaters and he couldn’t be there …”

“Yes,” nodded Ada, her expression sombre. “After the war, he was reinstated as an Auror, of course, and came back, but he hasn’t been the same since that tragedy.”

“Who would?” replied Ron, still processing everything he had heard. He had always thought that life on the run had been horrible, but it had effectively been worse for many of those who had had to continue with their lives.

Silence fell over them as they sipped at their coffees. Ron looked out of the window, seeing the Muggles as they hurried to their destinations under the rain, though he wasn’t really watching them. He was deep in thought about everything he had heard. Then, after a few minutes, he looked back at Ada.

“You said that there hadn’t been a report, and that the attack happened at his house,” he said. “So — how do you know about this?”

“Well … Goyle and the others weren’t shy, you know. I, and another couple of Aurors, heard him bragging about it a couple of weeks later. They were laughing in Goyle’s office, even joking about going for another ‘visit’. I felt so sick, Ron … We told Robards, and I know he went to visit him, but Gallory didn’t even let him enter the house; he didn’t want anyone to know. I think most of the Aurors that were in the office in that time know, but I’m not sure how many actually do or how much. So you’d better no let him know I told you!” she warned him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, and then shocked his head. “What a monster …”

“He was really vicious, Goyle. He wasn’t very bright, but he enjoyed causing pain. More than other Death Eaters, I think.”

“Yeah, Goyle was like that as well, back at Hogwarts,” remembered Ron. “I suppose that that’s what Gallory thinks: like father, like son.”

“I guess,” nodded Ada. “But, as far as I know, they had never gone so far, and, after I heard them that day, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I was assigned to track down an official of the Department of Magical Transport suspicious of being working against the new regime, and, when I found him, I told him to attack me so I had to be sent to St Mungo. I don’t know whether the accusations were true or not, but I didn’t care. And neither did he, knowing very well he was going to be tortured. He cast a few nasty curses at me, and, when I woke up in St Mungo’s, I asked the healer to keep me there for as long as possible.” She looked into Ron’s eyes, an expression of shame on her face. “I know I took the coward’s path, but I really feared for my parents. My father wasn’t very healthy, and I knew he wouldn’t resist the torture or Azkaban.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Ada,” Ron said sincerely. “All of us have our own regrets,” he added, thinking about the locket and the weeks before Christmas that year.

“I am still ashamed of what happened that year, of not having done anything sooner,” she explained. “At first, after Thicknesse was appointed, things were really confusing. There were loads of rumours and crazy stories running around. And there were so many changes, so many new appointments in positions of power. But none of the escaped Death Eaters were among them, so we couldn’t be really sure that Voldemort had taken over, so —” She stopped, and then shook her head. “No. No, I’m just making excuses. I think we just didn’t want to believe it. Deep down, we knew. As weeks passed the search for known Death Eaters seemed to have become irrelevant, and the focus was on Harry Potter and the Muggleborns. Of course, eventually it became too obvious what had happened, but, by then, we were already trapped. They had ensured, as I told you, that they knew everything about our families and friends,” she finished. “I know it’s not a justification,” she added, watching Ron’s face. “Your family was in danger and you still did everything you could.”

Ron let out a sad chuckle. “As I told you, I’ve got my own regrets, Ada.” He shook his head and took another sip, finishing his drink. “And, about the case … Do you know anything about the Notte woman? I mean, it was very similar to ‘Nott.’”

“I know. And after the attack on Isabelle Fawley I went to see Amelia’s mother and inquired about Robert Notte’s family, but she didn’t know anything: Robert Notte was raised in an orphanage. I wanted to look more into that, but Gallory told me to focus on Goyle’s activities and relations. I considered investigating it anyway, but now that there is another victim whose name has nothing to do with ‘Nott,’ I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, and then asked the question which had been tormenting him, “Do you think Goyle could be involved? I mean, I can hardly see him doing this alone, but he left with a blonde guy, and if he’s got an accomplice …”

“Gallory ordered me to bring him to the Ministry for interrogation,” Ada informed him. “I sent Linus Lancaster and Isolde Mallus to go after him. She checked her watch. In fact, most surely they’re already back, so we should get going; I must interrogate him.”

Ron nodded and they got up, exiting the café a moment later.

Once back in the Department, Ron went back to his cubicle, wishing Ada luck with the interrogation. He was still deep in thought about everything he had heard when he sat down, so it took a while for him to notice the piece of parchment on the top on the report he should be revising. He took it in his hands and unfolded it.

_Can’t meet you for lunch. See you at your house after work._

“Bollocks,” said Ron, who really wanted to talk to his friend. Wishing that at least Hermione was free, even if for a quick bite, he sent her a memo and then opened the first report and tried to read.

Five minutes later, however, he realised that he had no idea of what he had been reading. His eyes had moved over the words, but they hadn’t sunk into his brain. The only thing he could thing about was what Ada had told him about Gallory. He felt he had the right to be angry at him for the way him and Harry had been treated, and yet, at the same time, being angry at someone who had been forced to watch his wife being gang-raped …

He was distracted by the arrival of a memo containing Hermione’s response. He unfolded it and his shoulders sagged in disappointment.

_Sorry, Ron, I’ll just eat a quick sandwich. Due to the new attack,_

_Mr Knowton had to delay our meeting. See you at home._

“Perfect,” he said dejectedly. “So I’m on my own ...” He looked at the pile of reports. “Well, no. I’ve got you lot to keep me company.”

The morning passed slowly, and, though he tried to focus on his work, he ended up revising just a couple of them. Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to do much more, he went to eat a bit earlier than usual and, as he delved into his steak and kidney pie, a depressing thought crossed his mind: he could count with the fingers of a hand the times he’d had to eat here without Harry or Hermione.

In the afternoon, he went back to his reports. He kept an eye out for Ada, wanting to know about the outcome of Goyle’s interrogation, but he didn’t see her. When at last his clock marked five o’clock, he got up, ready to go home. At least doing paperwork meant he could leave at his hour.

When he stepped out of the fireplace, he found the house empty. With a sigh, he took off his cloak and went to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. Seeing that the laundry basket was almost empty, he decided to do it, so he set up the wash and went to the kitchen to get a butterbeer before dropping onto the couch.

“Home, sweet home,” he muttered, taking a long gulp. Were his days at work to be like this one from now on? Because if that was the case, he could no longer see the appeal of continuing to be one. He thought of Neville, who had left to pursue a career as a teacher, and wondered, again, if being an Auror was truly his future, or just a stage in his life. A dream of his younger, more adventurous self.

Not wanting to think anymore, he turned on the TV, a gift from Hermione’s parents after George had managed to make them work in some magical homes (depending on the levels of magic in the air — they wouldn’t work in Hogwarts, at the Ministry or heavy magical places like Hogsmeade)

He had just taken the clean clothes out of the wash, when Harry stepped out of the fireplace.

“Hi, Mate,” he said, dropping onto the couch.

“Tired?” Ron asked.

“A bit,” answered Harry. He used his wand to summon a bottle of pumpkin juice for himself. “Sorry for being so late, I went home first to see Ginny and to take a shower.” He took a sip. “How was your day?”

Ron threw him a pointed look.

“Stupid question, sorry,” Harry said. “Mine wasn’t so bad, giving the circumstances … Managed to stop a duel between a couple of wizards in Knockturn Alley. The worst thing was the bloody rain, it’s been pouring the whole day.”

“I talked to Ada. Went to have a coffee with her, in fact,” Ron told him.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, excited. “Did she tell you anything? Just before leaving I heard they had brought Goyle in for questioning …”

“Yes, Gallory ordered her to,” confirmed Ron, nodding. Harry scoffed, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable.”

“Harry, what if we made a mistake?” he asked with anguish. “What if he really is guilty? I mean, the apparition of that guy … I know I joked about it yesterday, but the more I think of it, the more suspicious it looks.”

“Suspicious, yeah. But it does not make sense for Goyle to be part of these attacks, Ron.”

“How are you so sure? Maybe this guy is using him, just like Malfoy did back at Hogwarts.”

“Then why would Goyle carve his own initials on their foreheads? And the surname thing —”

“But the last victim’s name is John Malbard, and he’s a man, a Muggleborn. Until now we had some pattern, but now the victims have nothing in common.”

“Mmmh,” said Harry, deep in thought. “Still, I don’t think Goyle fits in this. I don’t know, I feel there’s more to this case, that we’re not getting the whole picture. And Gallory is behaving like a fool, trying to blame Goyle despite the lack of evidence. You’re right, Ron, he’s a wanker and —”

“Don’t call him that,” Ron cut him in, his tone very serious.

Harry stared at him, taken aback. “What? It was _you_ who nicknamed him that way, you know!”

“Yeah but —” A sudden _whoosh!_ coming from the fireplace interrupted him, and Hermione stepped out, her wand already on her hand to get rid of the sooth. She froze on the spot when she saw the two of them.

“Hi, Ron. Harry, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“We were just catching up,” said Harry.

Hermione frowned. “Catching up? After spending the entire day together?” she asked, amused. “You two aren’t having an affair behind my and Ginny’s backs, are you?” she joked. However, when neither Harry nor Ron laughed, smiled or looked affronted, her expression turned serious again. “What’s the matter? What happened? I know there was another attack, but —”

“Ron and I are no longer partners,” explained Harry, stopping her rant before it could gain momentum. “Gallory assigned me to the patrolling squad and him to — well, to revise reports.”

“What!?” Hermione asked, astounded, her eyes moving from one to the other. “But — but — why? How?”

“As you say, there was another attack and Gallory blamed us for not stopping Goyle.”

“What? So, he’s got solid proof he was the one responsible?” asked Hermione, entering full lawyer mode.

“The attack happened during the time Goyle wasn’t at home yesterday,” explained Harry. “And well, basically he blamed us for letting him go. And as Ron has been a bit — well, _outspoken_ , he decided that we are too full of ourselves, that being together only made that worse and that we should be apart.”

“But that’s preposterous!” Hermione yelled, outraged. “Evidence against Goyle is circumstantial at most! I mean, I understand Goyle’s father might have been a tyrant while he was appointed Head of the Office, but still —”

“No, you don’t understand,” interjected Ron calmly, interrupting her.

“What?”

“You don’t understand. Neither of you do.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, scowling. “Why are you defending Gallory so suddenly?”

Ron breathed deeply and then relayed to his two friends what Ada had told him. When he finished, Harry was open-mouthed and Hermione had paled considerably, gripping her robes tightly after having dropped onto an armchair.

“Fuck …” muttered Harry.

“That’s — that’s _horrible_!” Hermione declared.

“I imagine he stayed at home, recovering and taking care of his wife, and plotting revenge, and then, the battle happened and Goyle was sent to Azkaban. And the Aurors had nothing to do with Voldemort’s demise, and well …” He shook his head. “I’m not saying that I respect his attitude towards us, or what he’s doing, but I can’t really blame him, you know? He tried to help a fellow Auror and suffered greatly for it … And then the name of the Aurors, something sacred to him, was dragged into the mud for not being able to stop him or taking back the Ministry after its fall. But we did, we three.” Harry opened his mouth to reply, but, before he could, Ron added, “I know many more people helped, but we three were the focus of the press. You were the one to finish him off and Hermione and I helped you.”

“To be honest, he finished himself off,” pointed out Harry, “but I get what you mean.”

They fell silent for a bit, the three of them thinking about what had happened.

“In any case, the last attack means our theories are discarded,” added Ron. “I mean, it was a man, a Muggleborn, and his surname has nothing to do with Nott — it’s Malbard. Maybe the similarities between the first two attacks were a coincidence, and they are random.”

“Or it could be that the first two victims are related, and they attacked again just to cause confusion,” suggested Hermione.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

Hermione straightened herself, just like when she entered her lecture-mode. “Imagine you want to attack or kill a specific person, maybe because they offended you in some way. If other people know about the existence of such a — let’s say ‘disagreement,’ then, if something happened to that person, you’d be an obvious suspect. Isn’t one of the standard questions after someone is attacked by an unknown person if the victim has enemies?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron.

“Well,” continued Hermione, “knowing this, instead of attacking just that person, you attack several others as well, selecting them randomly. This way, the authorities will try to find a connection between them, and you no longer are a suspect, as nothing relates all the victims to you.”

“I get it,” said Ron. “Yeah, it could be …”

“But, if you don’t want to get caught, why leaving a message, in form of those letters?”

“Well, some serial killers always kill in the same way so that everyone knows it was them. Or maybe the message is another false trail,” insinuated Hermione, shrugging. “We’ve got no proof it means anything.”

“I haven’t thought about that,” said Ron, thoughtful. Harry, however, looked doubtful.

“It’s an interesting theory, Hermione, but I don’t know, it doesn’t ring true to me. This smells like what happened before Voldemort’s return … Apparently unrelated events that, in the end, were linked. And I’ve got a feeling there’s a bigger picture behind this.”

“The only way to know for sure is investigating more,” stated Hermione.

“Yes. And I still intend to find more about Robert Notte’s origins. I’ll try to make time tomorrow for that,” he announced resolutely, and went up. “Well, I’m going home. I hope I see you tomorrow, Mate.” Ron nodded, and Harry looked at Hermione. “As I’ll be patrolling, I won’t be able to be in your presentation. So good luck with that, though you don’t really need it.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Bye, guys,” he said, and vanished through the fire.

Hermione turned towards Ron and moved to sit next to him.

“Are you OK, Love?” she asked tenderly, placing one hand on his arm.

“Yeah, it’s just — I’ve been so angry at Gallory, and part of me still is, but — I know what’s to see the person you love suffering and being unable to help her. And in the end I could take you out of there. I — I can’t imagine what’d I do if I saw you being ra— ra—” He swallowed, unable to say the word out loud. “Well, you know, and I was unable to do anything, if they broke you. I — I’d want to kill them, to get revenge on them, and if I couldn’t … I mean, I understand why he’s so bitter.”

He reached for her and pulled her body against his, basking in her scent and the feel or her.

Hermione embraced him tightly. “I can’t imagine it either.”

He put two fingers under her chin and pushed up gently, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes. “You’re my everything, Hermione.”

Hermione, her eyes brimming with emotion, stretched her neck and brushed her lips against his, her hands moving to his shoulders. Ron moved his hands to her waist and caressed her. They kissed again and she straddled his legs.

“I’m sorry you’re no longer working with Harry, and for not being able to meet you for lunch. If I knew you were alone, I would have made an effort to take some time off for you.”

“It’s okay, Love,” said Ron, shrugging. “It’s not your fault.”

“Robards will be back soon, and I’m sure he’ll put you two back together.”

“And what if Goyle is really the culprit? Then we fucked up and —”

“No,” said Hermione rather abruptly. “No, Ron. Even if he is the one behind this, you couldn’t have done anything, not legally. And, anyway, no one is perfect, everyone makes mistakes. That doesn’t mean you aren’t good together, because you are. You are amazing, in fact!”

Ron smiled at her. “Yeah, you’re right. You always know what to say to make me feel better,” he whispered to her. “Merlin, I love you so much.”

Hermione kissed him and then grabbed his hands and, slowly, moved them to her breasts. “I also know what to do to make you feel better.”

“Hermione …” he groaned, and then she pressed his hands against her tits, making him squeeze them, and Ron bucked his hips, his cock already hardening.

“Don’t you want to?” she asked, kissing him along his jaw. “Because I really want to,” she whispered, grasping his earlobe between her teeth and pulling playfully.

“I do want to. I want to lose myself in you, to bury my cock in your tight, hot, perfect pussy …”

“That sounds amazing,” she said, her voice sultry and seductive. “I want to feel you inside me, Ron.”

Ron kissed her hard, and they snogged passionately. He kept kneading her tits while she buried her fingers in his hair, tussling it.

Then, suddenly, she pulled away and, taking her wand, he vanished all his clothes and most of hers, leaving only her underwear. Her sexy, incredibly arousing black lace bra and panties. His eyes zeroed on her tits, so deliciously pushed together and watched them as she breathed, causing them to move enticingly. Fuck, they were awesome.

Hermione, with a smile on her face, kissed him again, making him whimper, and then straightened her body, getting closer to him so her tits were just in front of his face.

“Like the view, Ron?” she asked, shaking her chest.

“Fuck, yeah!”

“Remember that this one opens at the front,” she said, rubbing the lace against his face. Ron, possessed by lust, moved his hands to the clasp, fumbled for a couple of seconds and then opened it, pushing the cups to the sides. Then he buried his face between both mounds, rubbing his cheeks against them and grunting animalistically.

“Mmmh, yes,” she moaned, moving her boobs from side to side and smacking him with them. “You really love my tits, don’t you, Ron?”

“Fuck, yes!” he said, his voice muffled by her flesh. He moved his hands up and cupped them, pressing them harder against his face while he squeezed them eagerly. “I love these tits. Shit, they’re so fucking amazing!” he exclaimed, taking a nipple and as much of her left breast in his mouth as he could and then applying a strong suction, making Hermione gasp and pull on his hair. He repeated the action and then switched to the other breast, applying the same treatment. He kept going from one to the other until the skin around her nipples was pink and she was panting from sheer excitation.

He was at his limit as well, as she hadn’t stopped grinding her crotch against his, the arousing fabric of her panties rubbing against his sensitive dick sending jolts of pleasure across his horny body. And then she said, “Ron, I need your cock,” and his self-control snapped. With a loud, barely human groan, he grabbed her tightly by her waist and pushed her off him roughly. She fell on her side facing the back of the sofa and let out a yell of surprise. But before she could say anything else, he had got up, grabbed her once more and bent her over the back, her chest pressed against it and her head on the other side. Ron groaned again at the incredibly sexy sight of her ass in those tiny panties that left half of each buttock bare. His prick was twitching and demanding to be buried in a tight sheath, so he placed her to his liking and, after giving those round cheeks a rough caress, he ripped her panties off, letting them fall on the couch between her legs.

“Ron!” she protested, tough he could sense the arousal in her voice. “I loved those!”

“So did I, but I’ll buy you more; hundreds of them,” he growled. “I thought you wanted my cock in your tight pussy?” he asked, kneeling on the couch between her legs and pressing his dick against the crack of her ass, encasing it between his lower belly and her cheeks while he held onto her hips to keep her against him. It gave him some relief, albeit small, and he let out a slight moan.

“I do, but —”

“Then tell me,” he interrupted her, his voice commanding. “Tell me I can rip your knickers whenever I want to bury myself in your pussy. Tell me to fuck your tight pussy hard with my big cock.” He hadn’t planned on being rough and dominating. In fact, when she had started things, he felt in the mood to let her take charge. However, the image he now had of her, with her back arched, her wild curls falling over her pristine skin, her round bum pressed so deliciously against him, had brought to his memory the fantastic fuck they had had the other night, causing a desire to possess her completely to arise inside him.

Hermione turned her head to look at him, her hair flying to the other side and falling over the shoulder. Her eyes were darkened with lust, and she looked so turned out, so full of desire for him …

She was simply breath-taking.

“Tell me, Hermione,” he repeated, his voice quivering a little.

“You can rip my knickers whenever you want, Ron, because the tight pussy under them is yours. So fuck it hard. Fuck my pussy hard with your large, wonderful cock and don’t stop until you’ve filled me up with every drop of cum in your balls.”

Hearing such dirty talk from her drove him completely mad. Grunting, he looked down and moved her hips and his until his tip was pressed against her snug, wet hole. Then, looking back into her eyes, he rammed forwards, as hard as he could, burying his entire cock in her pussy and slamming his hips against her ass noisily.

Her eyes rolled onto her sockets and she turned her head to tilt it backwards as she moaned loudly.

“Gods, Ron!”

“Fuck, so tight! So — amazingly — tight!” he shouted, thrusting hard and deep into her, almost crushing her front against the back of the sofa with each forceful thrust. “Hermione, your pussy is simply glorious! Fuuck!”

“Gods, Ron, you’re an animal!” she shouted, squirming under his assault on her cunt, and then let out a litany of ‘gods, gods, gods,’ every time he slammed into her.

Ron, on his part, was grunting continuously, his eyes fixed on her ass and the way his cock was entering and exiting her, shiny with her juices. He had to remember to blink every now and then as he was completely transfixed with the sight.

Fucking her at such speed, and with such an erotic image to arouse him even more, he felt himself approaching his climax fast. He gritted his teeth and just went harder, making her body shake from head to toe with every thrust. He wanted her to come with him, or before him, but he was unable to slow down, completely overcome by his lust for her.

“Shit, Hermione, cum for me! I’m going to burst, CUM FOR ME!”

“Ron! Gods, Ron, I’m very close! Very close, just a little —”

But it was too much and Ron felt his self-control snap completely. With a loud roar, he moved his hands under her torso to grab her tits and squeezed them hard as he put her body straight up. Pressing her back against his chest, he slammed in one last time with all his force and held his cock deep in her tight, unbelievably hot cunt as he exploded, flooding her with spurt after spurt.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, Hermione, shit! Shit, fuuuuck …” he groaned, his hips still bucking against her perfect ass, trying to get himself deeper even if it was physically impossible. But his body was acting on his own, because his brain had simply shut down with the intensity of his orgasm. “Fuck …” he moaned, letting her body fell against the back of the couch with him against her, his head resting o her left shoulder. “That was — oh, fuck, Hermione …” He could still feel his softening dick twitching inside her snug hole. It still felt amazing. When he had got some air, he lifted his head and put a kiss on her skin.

She turned her head to look at him and smiled.

Ron gave her another kiss and let his dick slip out of her. He dropped onto the couch besides her and pulled her to snuggle against him. Her smile flickered briefly, for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough and suddenly realised something.

“You didn’t come,” he said, more than question.

“No,” confirmed Hermione, looking a bit sheepish, as if it were her fault.

“Shit, I’m an idiot!” Ron berated himself. “Sorry, Love.” He moved his hand to between her legs. “Let me finish you off with my hand. Or do you want my mouth? I’ll go down on you and —”

“Ron, Ron,” she said softly, stopping his rant. She cupped his face, looking at him tenderly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to do anything. It was still amazing and —”

“No, it’s not okay,” he stated. “I came so fucking hard and I want the same for you.” He slid his hand between her legs and began to caress her moist folds. She closed her eyes briefly and let out a moan, but, just a moment later, she took hold of his wrist and stopped him.

“Not like that,” she said.

“My mouth, then?” he asked, ready to slide to the floor. However, she shook her head.

“No. If you want to make me come, do it with this,” she said, and reached for his spent cock, caressing it.

“Hermione …” he said, doubtful. “I don’t know if I can get hard again so quickly. I came so hard and, if I’m honest, I feel rather worn out.”

“Well, I’ve got the solution for that …” she replied huskily and positioned herself so her mouth was over his dick. She caressed it and then took it in her mouth, slowly, as if tasting it, and moaned.

“Hermione …” he groaned. He watched her suck him and then moved his gaze along her bent body, stopping at the curve of her delicious bum, raised up in the air. He stretched his left arm and caressed it, enjoying its softness, roundness and firmness. She moaned again around him, and he felt himself stir.

“Mmmh, it’s coming to life,” she said with glee, briefly releasing him, and then swallowed it again, sucking with more fervour.

After a couple minutes of that wonderful blowjob and his hands on her ass he hardened completely. Hermione kept sucking for a bit, making sure his erection was as firm as possible, and then released him with a long slurp. Giving it a few strokes with her hand, she smiled at him once more before getting up and straddling his thighs.

“See?” she asked, her hands still on his dick. “Hard as steel once more.”

“For you,” he said, cupping her tits and rubbing her nipples.

She moaned and grinned lustily. “For me.” Looking into his eyes, she positioned herself over the tip and rubbed it against her. “Just for me,” she added, and took it inside. She descended slowly, very slowly, until they were completely joined, and then began to rotate her hips. “Mmmh, Ron …”

“Hermione …”

“You like this?” she asked, and clenched her pussy around him while still moving. “You like to see me like this while I ride you?” she added, arching her back to make her breasts more prominent.

Ron squeezed them. “Fuck, yes, Hermione, yes. I love it. You feel amazing. Amazing.”

With her eyes fixed on his, she began to move up and down on his cock, letting out little noises. Ron moved his hands to her hips and helped her.

He had enjoyed taking her roughly and hard, but, as what he had learned that morning was still in the bottom on his mind, he relished in having her like this, slow and sensual. The idea that what had happened to Mrs Gallory could have happened to her was simply unbearable.

“Hermione, I love you so much,” he blurted out, his voice full of emotion.

“I love you too, Ron. Gods, I love you so much …” she replied, moving faster. “And I love riding you, you feel so good inside me …”

“Ride me. Ride me until you cum.”

“Oh, yes, yes, I want to cum on your cock, Ron. Gods, I love it,” she moaned, now bouncing on top of him. Ron caressed her hips and gave her bum a squeeze. Then he moved his right hand to between her legs and began to caress her clit. At once, she stiffened and her grip on his shoulders tightened. Ron grinned and rubbed her harder. She sped up her movements, riding him really hard, and Ron knew she was on the verge of climax.

“You were really close before, were you?” he asked.

“Yes. You were fucking me so good, Ron. I love the way you fuck me, the way you touch me, the way you look at me, the —- Ahhh, Ron, I’m just there! Just — RON!” she shouted, and Ron felt her pussy spasm around him as she orgasmed hard, raising her hips to slam down as hard as she could and make it more intense. She kept at it until she rode it out, and then slumped against him, out of breath. Ron embraced her.

“Mmmmh,” she moaned contentedly.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded against his shoulder. Ron let out a chuckle and then kissed her cheek.

“You’re still hard,” she said after a bit, clenching her pussy for emphasis.

“I know.”

“I want you to cum again.”

Ron looked at her for a few seconds, and she held his gaze, both of them conveying how much they loved the other. Then, without disentangling himself from her, he got up. Hermione crossed her legs behind him, and Ron got them down so she was lying on her back on the rug with him on top of her, just in front of the fireplace.

He kissed her, softly at first, but, when she deepened it and turned it into a snog, he began to move inside her, enjoying the velvety, hot depths of her pussy.

“Mmmh, Ron …” she moaned against his lips.

“Hermione …” he whispered, placing kisses all over her face.

They made love slowly for a while. Ron wanting to get her close once more, and. After three or four minutes, she began to moan louder, and surprised him by sliding one hand between their bodies to touch herself.

Ron groaned and threw himself at her, fucking her hard and fast, slamming into her. Her cunt, so wet and tight, felt so unbelievably good he never wanted to leave. He wanted to feel her spasming once more around him before shooting inside her.

“Ron …” she moaned lustily, her hand moving faster. Ron groaned and fucked her as hard as he could.

“Cum for me, Hermione. Cum for me so I can fill you up again!” he demanded, and then moved his right hand to her tits and squeezed her left one, his thumb rubbing her stiff nipple.

“Gods, Ron, yes! Fuck, yesssss!” she yelled as she came, her pussy contracting around him deliciously. Ron grunted and shoved himself deep into her one, two, three times and let himself go, his cock spending itself for the second time inside her clenching hole.

“Shit, Hermione …” he moaned, falling his elbows, their chests touching as they breathed heavily.

“Ron, that was simply amazing …” she said dreamily, a satisfied smile on her face.

“It was,” he said, moving to the rug next to her and lying on his side, his head on his propped arm so he could look at her. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, and Ron just stared, awed by this beautiful, sexy, intelligent, challenging, determined, maddening woman with whom he had fallen in love even before understanding what being in love meant.

He leaned to give her a kiss and she responded eagerly.

“You know what?” she said when they pulled apart. “I think it’s the first time we make love here on the floor, just in front of the fireplace, and —” Her eyes opened wide and she looked at Ron with a panicked expression on her face.

“What!?” he asked. “What’s it?”

“Ron, we didn’t block the Floo! Anyone in our families could have popped out and find us!”

Ron let out the breath he had been holding. “Fuck, woman, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Well, I’d have a heart attack if, let’s say, George, came suddenly and found us like this!”

“Yeah, I suppose …” he conceded. “We’d better get up, then.”

“I need a shower,” she said. “And so do you.”

“Yeah, you gave me quite a workout,” he joked, slapping her ass playfully.

She laughed. “You know I always love when you work hard.”

Hermione gathered her underwear and they moved to the bedroom. She opened the door to the bathroom and repaired her ripped knickers between putting them and the bra in the laundry bucket. Ron, giving her a saucy smirk, prepared the shower.

“You’d better don’t get accustomed to ripping my panties off me,” she warned him.

“Why? It was sexy, and you liked it.”

“I liked it, yeah, but they can’t be repaired _ad infinitum_.”

“Well, I told you I’d buy you more,” he said. “What better use for my money than spending it in lots and lots of sexy panties for my sexy fiancé?” he joked, embracing her. Hermione laughed and pecked his lips before smacking his bum and entering the stall.

After the shower, they prepared dinner together and sat down to eat.

“Ready for tomorrow, then?” he asked her.

“Yes, I think so. I’m nervous, though.”

Ron smiled at her. “You wouldn’t be my Hermione if you weren’t. But remember, you never perform as well if you’re not a bit nervous.”

Hermione let out a laugh. “Yes, yes, I know,” she said. Then her expression turned serious and began to play with her food instead of eating it.

Ron watched her for a bit, and then asked tentatively, “Hermione?” She looked up at him and he added, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“You got very quiet suddenly.”

She shrugged. “Oh, it’s just I hoped you’d be there.”

Ron frowned. “What do you mean, ‘you hoped’?”

“Well, the presentation will take a while, Ron, and, after what happened today, I don’t want you to have even more trouble at work.”

“Hermione, unless there is an emergency, I plan to be there. If I’ve got to work during my lunch break or even after hours to make up for missing time, I will, but I’ll be there supporting you.”

Hermione stared at him, obviously touched. “But — what if Gallory doesn’t let you?”

“I don’t care,” Ron said, and it was true. A year ago, it would have troubled him, but right now, he didn’t think he would mind much, even if he was fired. He didn’t tell Hermione this, though. He felt a bit bad for hiding how he was truly feeling about his job lately, but, as he was still pretty confused himself, he preferred to wait.

“I appreciate it, Ron, but seriously, I —”

“Hermione,” he said vehemently, cutting her in, “I’m going. This law if much more important than any report or other paperwork.”

“Okay,” she accepted, and smiled at him.

After dinner, they sat down on the couch in front of the TV, though Hermione was lying on her back, her head on Ron’s thigh while she read a book. Ron stared at the screen, though he wasn’t really seeing it. His mind kept going to what he had heard that day and to how things — his job, his own wishes and needs — were evolving. He glanced down at Hermione, who was completely focused on her book, and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She returned his smile before concentrating back on the pages she was reading.

At least, amidst all the changes, Hermione was still his constant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope now you understand Gallory a bit more. I’m not saying he is right or that he isn’t a wanker, but that event changed him forever, and he could never find a good way to deal with his anger.  
> And what about Goyle? What do you think?  
> Next publication, in a week or so, will be for Discovering Ourselves. See you!


	4. The Truth is Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione presents the Equality Law before the Wizengamot. Harry and Ron, after the second day working apart, embark on a journey to know more about the victims

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here’s the next chapter at last!  
> I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to advance more in the story first. I didn’t want to publish something that might pose problems for the story later. I’ve got a few more chapters written — though pending definitive revision — and the complete outline, so I think I’ve got it covered.  
> In any case, is another long, long chapter so you have a lot to read.  
> And, of course, the title is a reference to the amazing The X-Files, which, despite its flaws and inconsistencies, is still an awesome TV show, which I couldn’t fully enjoy as a teenager (missed many chapters) but I’m watching again now thanks to Prime Video.  
> Enjoy!

Next day, both Ron and Hermione went early to the Ministry. Hermione wanted to check on everything again and Ron wanted to start early to advance with his pile of reports.

After wishing Hermione good luck, he had gone to his cubicle, determined to work hard. It wasn’t easy, as just the sight of all that paperwork discouraged him pretty quickly, but, knowing he had to do this so he could go and support Hermione, he forced himself to go with it.

At around eleven (Hermione would be making her presentation at twelve) he got up and, gathering all the strength he possessed, went to Gallory’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He entered the office and Gallory raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Weasley,” he said, in an uncharacteristic pleasant voice. He looked almost — well, _happy_.

“Good morning, Sir,” he said as politely as he could, still a bit surprised. He just stood there for a moment, wondering what was up with his boss, when he spoke again.

“We interrogated Goyle yesterday,” he informed him.

“Oh,” he said simply.

“We told him he was a suspect in the case and asked him where he was yesterday afternoon and part of the evening.”

“And — what did he say?”

“Well, he became rather unpleasant, we could say, telling us that he was doing nothing illegal, that we had no right following him and that he wasn’t telling us anything. But we kept pressing him, even threatening with making a request to administer him Veritaserum.”

“Well, Goyle was always a brute, Sir,” Ron said, not nothing what to respond.

“Yeah, everyone in his family is, isn’t it?” Gallory commented, and his expression hardened, his eyes showing intense hate. Ron almost shuddered, and had to make an effort to not show that he knew. “Anyway,” Gallory continued, “he just laughed! He told us that he couldn’t tell us anything. That he had made an Unbreakable Vow. An Unbreakable Vow!”

Ron frowned. “An _Unbreakable Vow_?”

“Yes. And, as you know, you can’t use Veritaserum to reveal a secret protected by such a vow. It —”

“— would kill him,” finished Ron, completely shocked.

“Of course, we are trying to check whether that’s true or not. If he’s just making that up, we’ll ask for permission to use Veritaserum, and when he confesses, he’ll end up with his father, where he belongs,” he finished with a growl, clenching his fists. As Ron watched him, Ron wondered how he had never realised that the amount of hate from Gallory was not normal, that there must have been something more to it. Of course, now that he knew, he almost wished he didn’t.

“That’s probably true,” Ron said. “I mean, Goyle is not smart enough to use an excuse like that.”

Gallory directed him a penetrating gaze. “Well, Weasley, you also said he wasn’t smart enough to be behind these attacks. But why would he want to hide what he was doing? Why would he go to such lengths, if he were innocent? No, he’s guilty!” Gallory shouted with absolute conviction, and hit his desk with his fist, startling Ron a little. “And I’m telling you this so you understand that you’re not infallible, that you make mistakes, and big ones. Yes, I know we don’t have proof still, but we will. We’re pressing charges and so, for the time being, he won’t be able to attack anyone else!”

Ron didn’t know what to say. Certainly, the Unbreakable Vow thing was very suspicious, but, even if that was not enough, Ron didn’t dare say anything. This was Gallory’s only chance at revenge. Goyle’s father had attacked someone Gallory loved, and Gallory was going to do the same, in a way. A little clue, pointing to Goyle, was solid proof in Gallory’s mind.

Ron mused all this in silence. In front of him, Gallory took a few deep breaths and calmed down. He looked up at him. “What did you want?” he asked.

Ron gulped again. “Sir, today my — I mean, Hermione Granger is going to present the new Equality Law to the Wizengamot, and I’d like to attend. It’s such an important law and —”

“How are you doing with those reports?” asked Gallory abruptly.

“Well, I — Not as well as I’d like,” he responded honestly. “But I’ll stay after hours to finish them if necessary.”

Gallory watched him for a moment, as if pondering something, and then nodded. “You’re right. It’s a good law, that one. Go and support it and your girlfriend. But I want the reports revised by Monday morning.”

Ron just nodded and, muttering a low ‘thanks’, left.

Forty minutes later, with his mind still on what Gallory had told him, he went towards the Meeting Hall, where legislative sessions of the Wizengamot took place. Thank Merlin those weren’t held in the dark, depressing courtrooms. The Meeting Hall had windows, at least.

When he reached the lobby, he saw a large crowd already gathered near the doors, most of them reporters, and not just from Britain. Among them, he spotted Xenophilius Lovegood, who was talking to a couple of old wizards. He was a bit surprised to see him in there, as _The Quibbler_ didn’t focus very much on politics, but Ron supposed this was a big occasion. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, however, so he moved away, losing himself among the crowd. Suddenly, one of the reporters noticed him and shouted, “Mr Weasley! Mr Weasley, are you here to support the new law?”

Ron swore inwardly, as most of the people in the lounge turned to look at him.

“Mr Weasley, is Harry Potter coming as well?”

“No, I don’t think so. Please, leave me alone!” he asked, starting to become irritated.

“Mr Weasley, if you could —”

“Mr Weasley, just tell us —”

“Ron!” he heard Ginny shout, and he turned to see his sister, accompanied by Fleur. At once, the reporters focused their attention on her.

“Mrs Potter! What do you think about the chances of the new law to be passed —?”

“Well, it’s being defended by Hermione, surely you know what that means, don’t you? And if you don’t, you should stop being a journalist and ask for a job cleaning the tunnels under Gringotts,” Ginny replied rather rudely. The man who had asked blushed in embarrassment, and Ron had to supress his desire to laugh.

“Mrs Potter, please, how is your pregnancy —?”

“I’m not pregnant, I just drink a gallon of butterbeer every day,” she quickly spat, and Ron almost choked. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit. Thank you.”

“Let’s go in,” he told them, so they leave us alone.

They ignored the reporters as they moved towards the Meeting Hall, and sighed in relief when they were inside.

“For Merlin’s sake, it should be legal to hex those idiots,” Ginny said.

Ron let out a laugh. “Ginny, you really made my day.”

Fleur, meanwhile, shook her head. “A gallon of butterbeer, Ginny? Zeriously?”

Ginny just shrugged and Ron laughed again.

“Let’s sit down,” suggested Ron, looking around. A third of the members of the Wizengamot were already on their seats, talking to each other, but neither Hermione, Kingsley nor Knowton were in there. They probably were checking the last details, Ron reckoned. They found three seats for them.

“Fleur, I didn’t know you were coming,” said Ron. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I asked for a few ‘ours,” said Fleur, arranging her hair. “After all ze time I spent wiz ‘Ermione talking about ze laws in France, I wanted to be ‘ere and welcome Britain to ze modern ages.”

Certainly, France had one of the most advanced legislations in Europe, and, when Hermione had started to work in this new law, she had talked to her a lot about it.

As the time for the presentation got nearer, reporters and other people began to enter and occupy their seats. The members of the Wizengamot were also in there, and, five minutes to twelve, Kingsley, Knowton and Hermione walked in.

Hermione did a quick scan with her eyes and, the moment he saw Ron, Ginny and Fleur she gave them a tight, nervous smile.

“She looks a bit anxious,” commented Fleur.

“She always does,” said Ron. “It wouldn’t be her otherwise.”

A couple of minutes later, Kingsley took the floor and asked for silence before making a quick introduction of Hermione and the law. Then, Mellitous Bangard, the Chief Warlock, asked Hermione to begin.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione began to talk.

“Thank you, Chief Warlock, and you, Minister.

“Wizards and witches of the Wizengamot: our world has endured and big, but really necessary change since the end of the war. Many of those changes were to ensure that something like Voldemort’s rise to power didn’t happen again. To achieve that, we made sure laws had to be approved by this assembly, and safeguards and controls were established to prevent abuse of power. Then we approved laws aimed to combat inequality, giving rights to those who unfairly had been deprived of them while taking undeserved privileges from others.”

At this, several members moved uncomfortably. Very few, that was true, but some.

Ron knew Hermione had noticed, but she continued as if nothing had happened.

“And now we take one last giant step towards complete equality. A law to ensure there will be no more discrimination …”

Ron watched, with a smile on his lips, Hermione talk, her tone getting more and more passionate as time passed. When she finished, almost forty minutes later, the immense majority of the people in the room got up and clapped thunderously.

Hermione, visibly touched, nodded in thanks and took her seat.

The Chief Warlock took the floor once more.

“Thank you, Ms Granger, for your presentation and your work. The Wizengamot will study the proposal and the law will be voted next Friday at twelve o’clock. I declare the session terminated.”

At once, every reporter threw themselves at Hermione, who retreated a bit. Kingsley, with his commanding presence and deep voice, asked them you calm down.

“Ms Granger will answer you soon in the lobby, just give her a few minutes. Now, if you follow me …”

Hermione nodded at Kingsley in thanks and, when the reporters exited the room behind Kingsley, Hermione moved towards Ron, Ginny and Fleur.

“’Ermione, eet was brilliant!” the French woman said, smiling brightly.

“You think so?”

“You know you were,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t you hear that applause? There’s no way this law won’t be approved!”

“Oh, I hope so!”

“You really were amazing, Love,” said Ron, embracing and kissing her briefly.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “I was so nervous.”

“I know,” he told her with a smile.

“How’s been your day so far?” she asked him.

Ron’s smile faltered. “Well, I —”

“Ms Granger, sorry to interrupt but we need to go!” said Knowton apologetically.

Hermione nodded towards him and looked back at Ron. “Sorry, Love, I —”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “We’ll talk at home.”

Hermione smiled and looked at Fleur and Ginny. “Thank you both for coming, it meant a lot to me.”

“What’s family for?” Ginny replied, and gave her a hug. Fleur kissed her as well and then Hermione left in a hurry.

“Well, I’ve got to go back to work,” said Ron. “See you on Sunday?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ginny, who then turned towards her sister-in-law. “Fleur, do you have time for a coffee — or lunch?”

“I told your muzzer I’d ‘ave lunch with ‘er before taking Victoire and Dominique ‘ome. Why don’t you come?”

Ginny thought about it. “Well, I spend a lot of time with Mum lately, but what the hell, I won’t have to cook and it’s for free so I’ll go.”

Ron chuckled, then wished them a good time and exited the Meeting Hall. He glanced at the dais that had been raised, from which Kingsley was still talking to the reporters. Hermione was behind him, but she didn’t see Ron when he waved his hand at her.

On his way back, Ron took a detour to the Atrium and asked for a take-away sandwich before going back to his cubicle. Once there, a sudden idea struck him. He wrote a quick note to Hermione’s parents explaining it before he forgot, sent it, and then resumed the boring, depressing task of revising reports.

He had submerged himself in the piles of parchment when someone knocked, startling him. He turned round and saw Harry’s smiling face.

“Hey, Mate.”

“Harry! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be scaring wrongdoers in Knockturn Alley?”

“I’ve got an hour for lunch break and decided to see if you had eaten yet.”

“Just had a sandwich,” Ron told him. “I went to see Hermione’s presentation so now I’ve got to catch up.”

“Right,” said Harry, looking a bit disappointed. “How was it, by the way?”

“Wonderful,” responded Ron, smiling proudly. “She was amazing.”

Harry returned his smile. “Of course she was.” He made a pause. “Well, I’m going to fetch something to eat, I’m starving. See you, Ron.”

“Bye, Mate.”

Ron watched him go, and then, with a sigh, went back to the reports. He was going through them faster than he had anticipated. Hopefully, he could go home at around five. He was engrossed on another file when, to his surprise, Harry appeared once more in his cubicle, looking a bit out of breath.

“Ron!”

Ron looked at him, dumbfounded. “What are you doing? Doing laps around the department?”

“I saw Ladnus on my way up to the canteen. She told me about Goyle.”

“Oh, yeah. An Unbreakable Vow …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t look good, Harry.”

“I know, and though I still believe Goyle’s not behind his, we need to get to the truth. Ada told me they’re focusing the entire investigation on Goyle. Remember that we talked about finding more about Robert Notte?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I got the case file and —”

“You did _what_?” Ron asked, shocked. He lowered his voice. “Harry, if Gallory knows you read it without permission he’ll have your bollocks!”

Harry waved Ron’s concerns off. “Don’t mind that, I got the contact information of Angelica Weer, Amelia Nott’s mother. She lives in Southampton but is staying at a hotel here in London to be close to her daughter. Let’s go and see her after work.”

“After work?”

“Yeah. Send a message to tell Hermione you’ll be late, though I reckon it won’t take us long.”

“Okay,” Ron said, “but if Gallory kills us, I’ll kick your ass for all eternity.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry, he’s very happy thinking that he’s got Goyle, and we’re out of his way, so we’ll be fine.”

“I wish I was that confident, but yeah, okay. See you in the Atrium at half past five, then?”

“Perfect,” nodded Harry. “See you!”

Ron shook his head. However, he couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on his face. After the horrible week he’d had, it felt good to have some emotion …

* * *

At twenty past five, Ron closed the report he had been revising and put on the ‘done’ pile. He had only four of them to do. He could finish them early on Monday and give them to Gallory, so he got up, really to get out of the Ministry for the weekend. He sent Hermione a memo and then practically ran out of the office and towards the lifts. When he reached the Atrium, Harry was already next to the fountain.

“Ready?” asked Harry, who looked excited.

“Yeah.”

Harry grabbed Ron’s arm and Apparated both of them to a deserted alley. There, they cast the usual charms to look like Muggles and walked towards the main street. After turning to the left and walking about forty yards, they found themselves in front of an hotel. They looked at the façade and then Harry walked in decidedly.

“Will she be here?” asked Ron when Harry moved directly towards the lifts. “She could be at the hospital.”

“Visit hours are only from three to half past four,” said Harry. “You know, to prevent avoid using much magic on her.”

Ron nodded. Muggles at St Mungo could be visited by relatives, but they were charmed upon entering to give them the impression they were in a _normal_ hospital.

They took the lift to the fourth floor and, upon exiting it, Harry looked at the signs in the walls. “Room 408 … to the left,” he muttered, taking the corridor in that direction. When they reached the room, Harry ringed.

The door opened a few seconds later, revealing a rather tall woman in her late fifties, who looked rather tired and had very visible bags under her eyes. She probably wasn’t sleeping well, not knowing what had happened to her daughter or if she would recover.

“Angelica Weer?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” the woman responded, rather warily, as if fearing something.

“We’re from Scotland Yard,” Harry continued, and took out the little piece of metal that Muggles saw as a police identification. “We’re investigating what happened to your daughter.”

Angelica narrowed her eyes a bit. “I already talked to that woman, Ms Ladnus,” she said.

“We know,” said Harry, his voice friendly and kind. “And we’re sorry for bothering you, but we’re following another line of investigation and we think the attack upon your daughter might be related to another that occurred just days afterwards. To a woman with a very similar surname.”

“I know about that as well,” said Angelica, crossing her arms under her chest. “And, as I already told Ms Ladnus, my husband never knew his parents. He was raised in an orphanage. He’s got no family at all — at least, that I know of.”

“Yes, we know. But we think that, even though your husband never met his family, the responsible of these attacks might know more. Did your husband inquire about his parents at the orphanage? Did he try to find them?”

“He didn’t know if they were alive. To tell you the truth, I don’t know much about that, because he didn’t like to talk about the orphanage or his parents. I think he asked about them just before leaving that place, when he became of age, but there was no information about them.”

Ron frowned. “There wasn’t?”

Angelica shook her head. “No. They simply abandoned him in there.”

“What about his surname, then?” asked Harry.

Angelica shook her head. “I don’t know. As I told you, he didn’t like to talk about that. He was happy with the family he had formed with me, and didn’t understand how anyone could abandon their child, as we would have never done that to our Amelia, so he simply tried to ignore that part of his life.”

Harry nodded gravely, and Ron eyed him with a little worry. This was a delicate subject for him, after all.

“Do you know the name of the orphanage?”

“St Michael’s,” responded Angelica. She reached for a piece of paper in a little table and wrote an address. “It’s still there, in Southampton. But, as I told you, I doubt you find anything useful.”

“Thank you, Mrs Weer,” said Harry. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and find out what happened to your daughter.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, her voice trembling a little. “Thank you.”

When they walked away and were alone once more, Ron looked at Harry. “You shouldn’t have promised her that, Harry.”

“I know, but — didn’t you see how distressed she looked?”

“Well, of course, but —” Ron didn’t know what else to say, so he changed the subject. “To Southampton, then?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, looking at the address. Harry and Ron made sure they were alone, and they Disapparated once more.

St Michael’s orphanage seemed to have undergone reforms in the last years, but, despite that, it still looked like a gloomy, sad place to Ron. He didn’t want to imagine how it would look fifty years ago. No wonder Robert Notte didn’t really want to know about the people who had left him here.

Fortunately for them, when they asked for the director, or manager, they were told she was still there. Five minutes later, they were sitting in front of Mrs Harrington, a stern-looking woman in her late fifties or early sixties. She was wearing glasses, and had her greying hair held in a tight bun. Ron thought she looked a bit like McGonagall.

“Well, what can I do for you?” she asked them.

“We need information about a man who grew here. Specifically, we want to know about his family,” Harry said.

The woman moved her eyes between the two of them. “Well, as you must know, private data about the children is confidential. Even if you’re from Scotland Yard, you need an order for that.”

“And we’ve got it,” interjected Ron, showing her a blank piece of parchment. The woman took it and examined it carefully.

 _She seems not to trust people easily_ , thought Ron.

“Robert Notte,” said the woman, adopting a thoughtful expression. “Curious.”

“What’s curious?” asked Harry eagerly.

“Well, I hadn’t heard that name in many, many years … until a couple of months ago, when another man came and asked about him. And now here you are.”

Ron and Harry shared a look. “Another man? Who?”

“Don’t remember his name,” said Mrs Harrington. “Not much about his looks, either, just that he was rather tall and blonde. I can tell you, however, that I didn’t like him. I usually can tell, at first sight, if a person is trustworthy or not, and that man wasn’t.”

Ron felt a shiver run down his spine. Goyle’s friend, or accomplice, looked like that.

“What did he want to know?” Harry asked, looking a bit alarmed.

“If we had his contact information.”

“And did you give it to him?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, looking almost offended. “I told him our archives were sealed except to the children raised in there or the proper authorities with adequate permissions. He told me that he was a relative of his parents, but he couldn’t prove it, and, as I’ve already said, I didn’t like him. I told him that the only thing we could do was to contact Robert for him and give him his phone number.”

“And what did he do?” asked Harry.

“He said he didn’t have a phone number, which I found rather odd. Who isn’t on the phone these days? So I knew for sure he was lying, and told him I could do nothing for him, that I was rather busy, and he just left.”

“Just like that?” asked Ron.

Mrs Harrington looked at him as if he were a talking hippogriff. “Yes. What else could he have done? Attack me here? Break into our archives?”

That’s exactly what Ron expected. But, of course, he — or, at least, anyone intelligent — would have waited and come back at night. Any wizard or witch could enter this building without a problem.

“No, of course not,” said Harry quickly. “This information you’ve given us might be very useful. It’s good you remembered that.”

“Well, it was a rather odd visit, you know. And well, he asked about Robert Notte, which was sort of a legend here.”

“A legend? Why?” asked Harry, very interested.

“Well, not him per se, but the way he came to us. That happened years before I started working here, but one of the nuns told me the whole story.”

“And what happened?” inquired Harry. To almost anyone, he would look calm and serene, but Ron knew he was brimming with anticipation.

“Well, he wasn’t given for adoption, which was the usual way, and neither was he left here in the entrance of the church, something almost as frequent. Instead of that, he was found in the entrance hall one night.”

“Well, and just the fact that they left him in the entrance hall is so strange?” asked Ron, not understanding what the fuss was about.

“It is, because we lock the main doors at night, you see. And at that time the doors were much sturdier than the ones we’ve got now. In any case, Sister Helen told me that, one rainy night, after her usual rounds, she came to the kitchen to have a glass of water. She was drinking it when she thought she had heard a baby crying. She was confused, as the dorms are on the other side of the building. She even thought she had imagined it, that the wind outside was playing tricks on her ears. However, upon exiting the kitchen she heard it again. Listening carefully, she followed the noise to the entrance hall, and there it was, a baby in a basket, covered by a blanket. She was shocked, as the doors were closed, and so were the windows. She woke up the other nuns, and they searched the building for someone that might have sneaked in during the day, but they found no one. The main door and the one that connects to the church are the only entrances and they confirmed they were locked. The other windows in the building had bars, so it is impossible to enter through them. No one could ever explain how that baby had been left there, or how it was that he was so warm under that thin blanket when the entrance hall was so cold at night, and several of the nuns started to say he was some sort of miracle, even a child sent by God Himself, who had kept him warm and safe to be found by the nuns. Rubbish, of course,” she said, shaking her head, “but, in any case, the orphanage took him in.”

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance. They both knew of ways that could explain how that baby had been left inside a closed building and kept warm despite the cold. And that about the child being considered a miracle …

“Did — did strange things tend to happen around Robert?” he asked, and, seeing Mrs Harrington’s confused face, he added, “I mean, for him to be considered a miracle …”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking, but not that I remember. He was a rather normal child.”

Harry nodded. Well, if he had been a wizard, he would have gone to Hogwarts, after all. As long as Ron knew, there was no way to hide the magic in a child.

“And what about the name?” asked Harry.

“There was a note under the blanket covering the baby,” Mrs Harrington explained. “His name, ‘Robert Notte,’ was the only thing written on it.”

“Do you remember which year was? The one in which he was left here?” asked Harry. “It’s the only information we need, as you’ve already told us everything you know about his family.”

“I don’t remember the year, but I can check the archives. Fortunately, besides keeping the documents, we digitalised part of the information,” she informed them, and she began to write on her computer. Ron had seen those things work, as Hermione’s parents had one. He didn’t know how they worked without magic, but he was in awe of them, especially the games, which Hermione’s father had showed him.

A moment later, Mrs Harrington looked at them. “He was found on November the sixteenth, 1949. He looked about six months old.”

“Thank you very much,” said Harry, and got up. Mrs Harrington shook both their hands.

“You’re welcome. Give Robert my best wishes if you see him.”

“Well — he died three years ago. Car accident,” explained Harry. Mrs Harrington looked a bit shocked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, these things happen,” she said with an air of finality, and let out a sigh. “Did he have family?”

“Yeah. He was married and had a daughter.”

Mrs Harrington nodded. “Good.”

“Again, thanks for your help,” said Harry, and they left the office.

“Well, you got it, did you?” asked Harry once they were out of the orphanage and alone.

“That Robert Notte was abandoned in there by a wizard or a witch? Yeah, it seems so. But why? He wasn’t a wizard.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” muttered Harry, deep in thought. “But, in a way, it reminds me of Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle.”

“But Riddle was a wizard. She just left him ‘cause she was ill and needed help.”

“I know. It’s just —” He made a pause, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s as if I could feel that there’s something behind this, you know? Some sort of secret.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. I can’t imagine who this Robert Nott could be, though. It seems he had something to do with the wizarding world, but apart from that ... In any case, at least we know this was not a random attack. You heard what Mrs Harrington said about that man? I know she didn’t tell us much about him, but he looked like Goyle’s friend.”

“Yes, I thought about that as well. And though Mrs Harrington said she didn’t tell him anything, it was enough for him.”

“Enough? But — you just said she didn’t tell him anything,” replied Ron, not understanding.

“She confirmed that they had contact information. It’s obvious he already knew who he was, he just wanted to find him. He probably Apparated into the orphanage at night and searched the archives. The address or phone number was surely outdated, but I think he was able to trace him from there.”

“Only he was already dead,” said Ron. “If he was looking for him, he probably didn’t know that.”

“Yes, you’re right …” nodded Harry, rubbing his chin pensively. “And they attacked his daughter.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “But not his widow.”

“No. Though family, Angelica Weer wasn’t of his own blood, but his daughter was … That must mean something.”

“Maybe,” said Ron. “But if this has something to do with family secrets or feuds … The old families have lots of those,” he told Harry. “Years and years of intermarriage and relations, you see. But I don’t know how we can know more.”

“Is there some sort of birth registry or something like that?”

“Don’t think so,” said Ron. “I’ll ask Hermione, she’s bound to know, but the Wizarding world is very different to the Muggle world in that sense. Except if you break the Statute of Secrecy or harm someone, the Ministry leaves you alone. And that was even truer in the past.”

They fell silent for a moment, both thinking, and then Harry checked his watch. “It’s still twenty past six. Do you think we can make another trip?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Where?”

“I got the address of John Malbard’s parents.”

Ron shrugged. “If you’re up for it, I’m as well.”

“They live in London. William and Geraldine Malbard. Ready?”

Ron nodded, and Harry took them back to the outskirts of London. They searched for the house and, ten minutes later, they were standing in front of cosy, two-story house with a little backyard. They could see light through some of the windows, so they were home. Harry was about to ring when Ron grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“What?” he asked.

“Look at the name on the mailbox,” said Ron, pointing to it. Harry followed the direction of his finger and gasped, shocked.

“The Smiths,” he read out loud.

“Seems you got the wrong address, Mate,” commented Ron.

“No, it can’t be. I copied it with Magic.”

“Ladnus’s mistake, then.”

Harry furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. “Well, we’re here. If the Malbards live in this street, maybe the Smiths know them.” He pressed the ring and, a minute later, a middle-aged woman opened the door. She stared at them, about to ask something, and then her eyes opened widely.

“You’re Harry Potter,” said she.

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance.

“Sorry, you know me? Are you — are you a witch?” he asked tentatively.

The woman looked at him strangely. “No — but my son John is. Isn’t that why you’re here? You’re an Auror, right?”

“Er — yeah,” nodded Harry, utterly confused. Ron didn’t understand anything, either. So this woman was Geraldine Malbard, but in the mailbox it said ‘The Smiths’? Could it be her parents’ house and they hadn’t changed the name? “Yes, we came in regarding to John. It’s just I thought we had the address wrong. I mean, it says ‘The Smiths’ on the mailbox,” Harry explained.

“Well, I’m Geraldine Smith,” she responded, looking a bit dumbfounded.

“But — your son’s name …” Harry started.

“Oh, that. You don’t know, of course. Well, come in,” Mrs Smith said, opening the door wide.

Harry and Ron stepped into a lounge, where another man — Mr Smith, Ron presumed — was sitting.

“Good evening,” Harry said politely. “I’m Harry Potter and this is —”

“We know who you are,” the man said, standing up. “We are Muggles, as you call us, but we like to be informed about the Wizarding world, due to — to John. I imagine he’s the reason you’re here.”

“Yeah,” said Ron.

“Sit down, please.” Ron and Harry sat down on two armchairs.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” asked Mrs Smith.

“No, thank you,” said Harry, and Ron shook his head as well. Mrs Smith sat down next to her husband.

“Did something happen to John?” Mr Smith asked, too nervous to wait anymore.

“Oh, no, no. His state hasn’t changed in the slightest. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. It’s just — well, sorry, but we’re a bit confused … In our files, you appear as William and Geraldine Malbard, but your surname is Smith instead. It might have been a mistake by our colleague, Auror Ladnus. She talked to you, didn’t she?”

“Briefly, at the hospital,” said Mr Smith. “Her confusion is understandable, as she talked mostly with Laura, John’s girlfriend. She knows much more about his life in the Wizarding world than us. We don’t understand half the things he tells us.”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry, who still looked a bit perplexed. So felt Ron, by the way.

“Surely nothing did happen?” Mrs Smith asked, clenching her hands with worry on her lap

“Yes, completely sure,” said Harry. “It’s just we are following a new trail. That’s why we’re here, talking to you and not to Laura. We suspect this attack might have something to do with John’s — yours — family, and we wanted to ask you about it. But this different surname thing …”

“John is not really our son,” explained Mr Smith. “We adopted him after my sister and her husband, his actual parents, died in a car accident. He was only a few weeks old. That’s why his surname is Malbard, as his father was Anthony Malbard. We didn’t want to change it.”

At this, Ron furrowed his brow. Another orphan? And another car accident?

Harry fell silent for a bit, surely pondering this as well. “Mr Smith …” he started to say, as if measuring every word. “Is there a possibility either your sister of your brother-in-law, or both, could have been magical?”

“No,” denied Mr Smith. “They were both lawyers. In fact, Helena — my sister — and I worked together in the real state agency that our parents founded.”

Harry nodded. “And you have no other magical family at all?”

“Not that we know of, at least,” Mr Smith answered.

“What about Anthony Malbard’s family?”

“Well, he didn’t really have any family. He moved from Canada after his mother died, and had no siblings. No one from his part came to the wedding except for some friends he had made here.”

Harry just nodded slowly, as if wondering what else to ask. Ron was thinking they had found the end of the thread and had barely nothing, when he suddenly remembered the blonde man and asked, “Has something strange happened recently?” When they all looked at him, confused, Ron made a brief pause to explain himself better. “I mean, did anyone come asking about John? Or anything else you mind have found odd, even for a bit?”

They looked at each other and Mr Smith shook his head. “Nothing comes to my mind.”

“No,” confirmed Mrs Smith, but then she made a pause, as if in doubt.

“Mrs Smith?” pressed Harry, who, like Ron, had noticed her hesitation.

“Well, there’s something, though I’m sure it’s nothing …”

“Please, tell us,” said Harry politely.

“It was yesterday evening,” started Mrs Smith. She looked at her husband. “You had gone to the tearoom to get something to eat. I popped into the bathroom for a moment and, when I came back to his room, there was a woman in there. I hadn’t seen her before, so I asked who she was. She told me she was a healer who had just finished her shift, and knew John through Laura, but — I don’t know, she just seemed too affected to be just an acquaintance. However, she left very quickly so I couldn’t ask her anything else. I found it a bit odd, but, of course, we were in a magical hospital, so I didn’t give it much thought, I could only think of John. Then William came back and I forgot about it.”

“Can you describe that woman?”

“She was tall and thin. Too thin, in fact. Her hair was long and straight, and very, very dark. Her face was oval, and she looked very pale, though I think that was her natural skin colour. She seemed to be on her fifties or so, but I don’t remember her eyes or much else, I saw her for just a minute.”

“It’s okay,” said Harry.

“Do you think she might have anything to do with this? She didn’t look like a menace to me, but one never knows, with a wand …”

“I don’t know, but be sure we’ll investigate it.” He looked at the Smiths. “Well, that’s all. Thank you for your time, but we’ve got to get going,” he announced, getting up. Ron did the same.

“Thanks for your help,” he added. “We’ll keep you informed.”

“Thank you,” said both Smiths, as they accompanied them the door. “Help John, please. Even though he’s is actually our nephew, we love him as a son. We couldn’t have children of our own and —” she trailed off, her eyes moistening.

“We’ll try our best,” promised Harry, and they walked away. “Well, what do you think?” Harry asked Ron.

“Another car accident,” said Ron, as they sat down on a deserted bus stop. “Do so many Muggles die in those accidents?”

“Thousands every year, just in this country, but still, it looks suspicious. And that’s what the Dursleys told me — that my parents had died in one of those. Turned out it was a lie. It would be stranger, however, it those accidents had happened close in time. But Robert Notte died three years ago, and John Malbald’s parents about thirty years ago.”

“But the blond guy investigating Notte went to the orphanage a couple of months ago. How are the odds that he was killed by someone and then another person went after him?” wondered Ron.

“Yes, things just don’t add up.”

“But the fact that John Malbard is also an orphan might be relevant,” added Ron. “That was an unexpected revelation.”

“You tell me,” snorted Harry. “It is as if something were erasing the past, leaving us with threads that lead to nothing. We’ve got information about Malbard’s maternal family, but we know nothing about his paternal one, or about Notte’s. The only victim whose family we know about is Isabelle Fawley.”

“Yeah, and I doubt they’d talk to us. If they’ve got secrets, they’ll keep them. I’ve heard stories, you know. The old families used to take care of these things among them.”

“Wonderful,” commented Harry sarcastically. “And what do you think about the woman Mrs Smith told us about?”

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Could be something, could be nothing.”

“Like everything in this case,” said Harry, and let out a sigh of frustration. “If we could just find who Goyle’s friend is …”

“Yeah, that’d help.”

Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he checked his watch. “It’s getting late, and I should go home. We’ll sit all this information during the weekend and we’ll talk on Sunday at your parents’.”

“Right,” said Ron, nodding. They got up and walked to a nearby, deserted park.

“Congratulate Hermione for me, okay?” asked Harry. Ron nodded, and then they both Disapparated.

Ron Apparated right in the living room. The lights were on, so Hermione must be home, but there was no sign of her in the living room, the kitchen or the library.

“Hermione?” he asked, tentatively. Looking around, he saw that a stack of fancy envelopes, another of cards and a few parchments were spread over the table. He got closer to take a look and saw that the parchments were the ones where they had listed the names of the people they wanted to invite to the wedding. It seemed she had been working on the cards, as some envelopes were sealed and had names on them. He groaned, knowing Hermione would want to finish the list and send the invitations, something he had been postponing for maybe too long. For Hermione it was easy: her father had a sister, so she had cousins but, other than that, her close family — those who knew about her being a witch — was small. He, however, had more relatives than he could count. The parchment with the list for his family, despite being already longer than hers, was still incomplete.

As he approached their room, he heard the shower running, and the thought that Hermione was in there, wet and naked, pushed the invitations completely out of his mind. He took off his clothes hurriedly, not bothering where he threw them, and then practically ran towards the bathroom. He looked at the stall through the steamy air and watched the blurry image of the bare body of his girlfriend. Ron was tired, and had been wishing for a quiet, relaxing evening. And was there a better way to relax than taking a hot shower with Hermione?

If there was, he didn’t know one.

Realising that he was staring when he could be touching, he approached the stall in two long strides, opened the glass door and said, “Nice view.”

Hermione let out a shriek as she whipped around and pressed her back against the tiled wall, ready to defend herself. Ron, startled, retreated a bit, but then laughed at her expression.

“RON!” she yelled, her chest heaving. “You almost gave me a heart attack! Can’t you warn me?”

“Sorry, Love, but you know we Aurors are stealthy,” he said, holding in a chuckle as he stepped into the stall. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” she replied, irritated. “And what do you think you’re doing?” she added, frowning at him.

“Taking a shower with my fiancé?”

“After the fright you just gave me, you deserve to wash yourself under the rain, outside!”

“That’d be cruel, don’t you think, Love?” he said with his softest voice, putting his hands on her arms and caressing them. He glanced down at her naked, wet tits and his cock started to harden. “Besides, who’d wash your back if you throw me out?”

“I’m perfectly capable of washing my own back, thank you very much.”

Ron got a bit closer and slid a hand down to her hip and then her lower back, grazing the top of her buttocks. “I’m aware. But you know that if I help you, it ends in a much more satisfactory way …” he said, his voice low and husky. His hand moved to the front of her body, grazing the trimmed hairs of her pussy.

Hermione swatted his hand away. “I’m also capable of that.”

“Oh, I know very well. It’s in the top five on my list of hottest images ever,” he declared. “But I’m sure you’d like it better if I did it …” he trailed off, and cupped her breasts, enjoying their fullness in his large hands. “I certainly like it much more when _you_ do _me_ …”

“You’re such a pervert, horny, sex-obsessed prat.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said proudly, and then kissed her hungrily. Hermione put her own hands around him and pressed his body against hers. As they snogged, she caressed his back and then descended to squeeze his bum. Ron groaned into her mouth, pressing his cock against her belly.

“You like my ass, don’t you?” he asked.

“It’s not bad,” she said cheekily, squeezing him again. Ron raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she conceded. “I suppose I love it almost as much as you love mine.”

“Now you’re exaggerating,” he said, and began to kiss along her jaw. “That’s impossible because I adore your ass. I worship it.”

“Do — you?” she asked between soft, incredibly arousing little moans.

“Yeah. Want me to show you?”

“Yes. Words are cheap, you know; I need a proof of faith.”

“Good,” he nodded, nuzzling her neck before sucking on her pulse point. Suddenly, he grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her around so she was facing the wall. Ron bit the nape of her neck and moved his hands up and down her sides, grazing her tits every now and then. Hermione moaned and arched her back, tilting her head to the side. Ron continued to lick and bit her, and she rubbed her ass against his dick, turning him on even more.

After savouring her wet skin, he began to crouch down, his mouth sliding down her back. Hermione moaned and squirmed, loving the treatment. Finally, Ron knelt on the floor, his hands on her hips.

Her round, sexy, perfect ass was just in front of him.

_Shit, what a sight!_

Hermione shook it a bit, pushing it out and said, playful, “Like the view, Ronald?”

“You read my mind,” he said, still watching and caressing her.

She chuckled. “It’s very easy to know what you’re thinking when I’m naked,” she told him. “Anyway, I was expecting some worshipping …”

“Eager, are we?” he said, smugly, and, grabbing her cheeks, squeezed them, enjoying how the flesh felt in them. Hermione pushed against him and he massaged that soft, delicious bum with relish, enthralled by the way it moulded to his hands. After a minute or so, he moved his hands back to her hips and started peppering her skin with little kisses.

“Mmmh, Ron …”

At first, he went slowly, pausing for a second in every point and taking his time before moving to the next, but, as his desire grew, he moved faster, even alternating the kisses with the occasional bite. Fuck, her ass was so soft and amazing that biting it drove him mad. His intention had been to arouse her until she couldn’t resist it anymore, but now he feared he was getting himself too worked up. He began to bite her more frequently, taking more of her flesh in his mouth, and Hermione moaned loudly, clearly enjoying it. After covering her entire bum in kisses and bites, he spread her cheeks a bit, revealing, her tight, puckered hole. Just seeing it made his cock twitch, as the memory of how tight it was flooded his brain. That time she hadn’t cum, but he was determined to give her an orgasm through anal play.

Tentatively, he passed his tongue along her crack, barely touching her hole, and he felt her shiver. He repeated the motion a couple of times and she pushed against him, as if wanting to feel more. Smirking, he spread her further and finally delved between her cheeks, circling her asshole firmly.

“Ahhh, Ron!”

“Like it?”

“Yes!”

Grinning, he went back to it, now licking the puckered skin passionately. She pushed against his face, bucking her hips a bit. She needed more, and he was eager to give it to her.

Moving his left hand to her inner tight, she pushed outwards, forcing her to open her legs more, and then slid one finger along her slit, from her clit to her ass, but barely touching.

“Do you want me to touch your pussy?”

“Please!” she begged.

“Then help me spread these fantastic cheeks so I can keep eating your ass.”

At once, Hermione’s left hand moved to her ass and pulled on her cheek hard. Ron used his right one to part the other and put his face between them once more. Having his face between those glorious buttocks was almost too much, and he hoped he’d had the patience to wait for her orgasm. He really wanted to make her cum, so he thrust his tongue against her butthole, rimming it hard and pressing, trying to penetrate it.

Meanwhile, he kept moving his left hand along her slit, pressing a bit harder but still in a way that was more teasing than satisfying. She squirmed and bucked her hips more, trying to get the friction she needed, but Ron still denied her.

“Roooon …” she moaned.

Ron groaned in response and plunged two fingers into her sopping pussy in one thrust, making her entire body shake.

“Ohh, Gods!”

Moving his tongue furiously, he pulled harder on her asscheek to have more room for his tongue and thrust faster, the motion replicated by his fingers. She was now fucking her two holes at a fast pace, and, instead of her previous, separate whimpers, she was now letting out a continuous moan.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he commented, making a brief pause. Hermione, however, didn’t appreciate it and pushed her ass back against his face, demanding he continued what he had been doing. That excited him even more and he thrust his tongue back into her hole, pushing it even further than before.

“Ron, I’m so close!” she squealed, moving her hips fast against his fingers and tongue. “I’m just — Unghhhhhh!”

Knowing she was about to cum got Ron wild. He pushed his face harder against her ass, the scent, the taste and the feeling of her perfect ass against his cheeks driving him completely crazy. He pushed his tongue as deep as he could and moved it in circles. He also thrust harder with his fingers.

She climaxed. Hard.

She hit the tiles of the wall with her fists as she howled in pleasure and her entire body shuddered violently. Her pussy and ass clenched around his fingers and tongue, and Ron’s cock twitched like mad. He wished, more than anything, to be back inside that tight, welcoming hole

As soon as she finished cumming, Ron got up and, placing his hands on her hips, bent his knees a bit to position himself and thrust hard into her still fluttering pussy.

“Gods, Ron!”

“Fuck, so tight!”

He began a quick, hard fucking, his groin slamming into her ass. “Shit, Hermione, want you so fucking much! You’re so — fuuuuck …”

“Ahh, Ron!”

Ron pressed his chest against her back and moved one hand to her tits, cupping them possessively. With his mouth close to her ear, he whispered as he continued to fuck her, “I want to be in your ass. Fuck, Hermione, I want your ass.”

“Yes… oh, yes, Ron …” she muttered almost incoherently as she stood his hard pumping.

Growling, Ron gave her a few, very hard thrusts, ensuring his entire cock was coated with her juices and then retreated. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her by them while pushing on her back so her ass was positioned to his liking. Quickly, he lowered his face and, spreading her cheeks, spat on her gaping hole. It was wet due to the water, but just this act of spitting in there got him even hornier. Unable to resist anymore, he placed the tip of his aching cock against her puckered anus and released her cheeks, pressing them together, enjoying the view of his cockhead surrounded so heavenly.

“Shit …” he muttered. Hermione pushed against him, and he lost control. Spreading her buttocks once more, he pushed, and, after some resistance, her hole yielded and his cock entered that divine ass of hers. “Oooh, fuuuuuck …” he moaned.

“Gods, Ron … Your cock feels huge in there!”

“Fuck, yeah! Gonna fuck your ass hard, Hermione!”

He retreated a bit and then pushed once more, repeating this act a few times until almost his whole dick was buried inside her constricting butthole.

“How does it feel, Ron?” she asked, almost breathlessly.

“It’s amazing … amazing …” he managed to mutter as he began truly fucking her ass.

He tried to go slow at first, but soon his lust and need became overwhelming, and he started slamming into her. She seemed to be enjoying it, so he went fast, his eyes fixed on his cock. Seeing it sliding in and out of her hole, her perfect, round cheeks surrounding him was almost too much. There was no way he was going to last.

Feeling even more possessive of her body, he gave her a few hard thrusts and then, sliding his left arm around her middle, pressed himself against her back, trapping her body between his and the wall. Hermione clenched her ass around him, whimpering, and he resumed his fucking.

“Shit, I love this, I fucking love this!” he chanted as he fucked her, his left hand fondling her tits roughly. Hermione threw her head back, almost resting it on his shoulder, and Ron watched her expression of pleasure. Her mouth shaped into an ‘o’ as she breathed in and out deeply.

Merlin, she was simply incredible, and he wanted her to enjoy this as much as him, so he moved his other hand from her hip to her front and between her legs, placing two fingers over her swollen clit.

She opened her eyes at once and turned her head slightly to look at him. “Gods, Ron!”

“I want to make you cum while I fuck your ass,” he told her, his voice sultry and demanding. “The other night you didn’t, but today you will. You already came with my tongue in your perfect asshole. Now you’ll do it again, this time around my cock.”

“Ron … Ron …” she muttered, unable to say anything else.

Ron didn’t need her to. He began to rub her clit in the way he knew she loved, and began to thrust once more, though this time with slow, little strokes. Their current position didn’t allow him to go hard, and he was glad about it, or he would cum in seconds.

So, focusing on her pleasure, he touched her tits and cunt, wanting to push her over the edge once more.

“You were amazing this morning,” he whispered against her ear while biting on her earlobe. “So passionate, so determined. Everyone was in awe of you, and I couldn’t help but think about how unbelievably lucky I was, as I am the one who’s going to marry you … the only one to see you naked … the only one to touch your amazing tits … the only one to fuck this delicious, hot, tight ass of yours …” he finished, and thrust a bit harder.

Hermione opened her eyes and turned her head a bit, now watching him not just with desire, but with the deepest, greatest love imaginable.

They held gazes for what seemed like years, though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, and then she curled her right arm, grasping the back on his neck, and brought his mouth to hers.

They kissed hungrily as he continued to fuck and stimulate her tits and clit. She moaned into his mouth, thrusting her tongue in search of his, and started bucking her hips faster. He could feel her clench her sphincter, trapping him in the most amazing prison ever.

“Ron, I’m going to cum again for you,” she panted against his mouth. “I’m going to cum with your dick in my ass …”

“Fucking shit, Hermiooh-kneeeeee!”

“Faster, Ron. Rub me faster. Take me there and — and the moment I — Ohhh, gods, yes, like that, rub it like that!”

“You were saying?” he asked, his voice strained due to the effort, as he was now moving a bit faster inside her clenching asshole.

“The moment — the moment I cum, I want you to give it to me hard and cum in my ass. Give all that thick cum to me, Ron …”

“Fuuuck, Hermione! Hermione!” he moaned, his bollocks tightening, threatening to pump all their seed into her.

Hermione arched her back as he rubbed her faster, his fingers drawing a tiny circle around her nub. Her panting became ragged and uneven and he knew she was just over the edge.

He pinched her nipple, adding more pressure to her clit.

“ROOON!” she shouted, her entire body convulsing as she came again. Her ass clenched so hard that, for a moment, he thought she was going to snap his cock in two.

Ron held her through her orgasm, which, to his delight, lasted even longer that the first one, and, when she finished, he whispered into her ear.

“Brace yourself.”

At once, her hands moved to the wall for support and she pushed her ass out, angling her body. Ron moved his hands back to her hips and roamed her cheeks reverently.

“Fuck me!”

He didn’t need anything else. Pulling out until only the tip was inside her, he thrust back in with force, his hips slamming into her ass. He fucked her as fast and hard as he could, groaning and moaning non-stop as he watched her buttocks redden under his assault. Wild with lust, he spanked her with his right hand, causing her flesh to rippled deliciously, and she let out a yelp.

Ron’s control snapped and he buried himself as deep into her bowels as he could.

“Hermione, I’m fucking cumming! Ohhhh fuuuuuuuuuuck!” he shouted as his dick spasmed and unloaded, firing spurt after spurt of his creamy cum into her abused asshole.

Finally, spent and still trembling, he leaned against her, panting heavily, his dick still buried in the clutching depths of her bum. When he regained some control of his body and felt he could move without falling, he extracted himself of her, almost regretting the loss of her delicious tightness.

“Hermione, that was amazing.”

She turned round and smiled at him, putting her hands on his waist. “I could tell you enjoyed it.”

“So did you. You came while I fucked your ass,” he told her as if she were not aware of that fact, or as if he needed to repeat it to believe it himself.

“I’m aware,” she smiled, looking satisfied. “It really was great. And now that I am well shagged and very satiated, I’m feeling rather hungry. We should finish here and have dinner.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, quickly soaping his body as she did the same. “I’m hungry as well. Ate just a sandwich so I could finish with those blasted reports. Did you eat anything?”

“I had some lunch with Kingsley, Percy, Knowton and a couple of other people from my office after the press conference, which was a bit exhausting.”

“I meant what I said before,” he told her as they finished. “You were really amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

Hermione beamed and then kissed him again.

“Thank you, Ron. And you’re not the lucky one, it’s me. You help me relax, you make me laugh and, above everything, you make me very, very happy. And besides all that, you’re an amazing Auror. I’m so proud of you as well.”

They shared another loving, tender kiss, and then stepped out.

She dried them both with a non-verbal spell. “About being an Au— ” she started to say, but forgot about it when she saw the mess on the floor. “What’s that?” she demanded, pointing at his haphazardly discarded clothes.

Ron smiled a bit sheepishly and moved to grab his wand. “Well, I was in a bit of a hurry, you know,” he excused himself, flicking the wand to send his robes to the wardrobe and the rest of his clothes to the laundry basket. “See? Already done, no need to blow my head off.”

She just harrumphed in response.

“What do you want for dinner? Fancy our special home-made pizza?”

“Okay,” she said as they put on their nightclothes.

When they were done, they moved to the kitchen and began preparing things.

“What were you about to ask me?”

“Eh?” she said, lifting her face from the table to look at him. “I don’t know what — Ah, yes!” she exclaimed. “How was your detour with Harry? Did you discover anything?”

Ron started to relay to her everything they had heard and then guessed as they prepared the pizza and put it in the oven; and then continued as they both waited, sitting down and with a glass of wine.

“So what do you think?” he asked, just when their magical oven indicated that the pizza was done.

“This is getting more and more mysterious,” she said, thoughtful, while Ron cut the pizza in slices and placed it in their plates. “I didn’t think Goyle was involved at all, but now … If that blonde man is the same that went to visit him, then he is related to this in some way, it would be too much of a coincidence otherwise. Of course, the description the manager gave you is too broad, loads of people fit in it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I doubt he is the mastermind, anyway. Goyle, I mean. All this seems related to something that happened long ago … There must be something in common about those children. Now it’s really obvious that Amelia Notte wasn’t a random victim. She was chosen, so it makes sense that the others were chosen as well.”

“Yes, it seems so,” agreed Ron. He wouldn’t deny this case was interesting, and rather different than what he was used to. In almost all of his previous cases, they knew beforehand who the culprit was, or whom they were looking for, as they had, mainly, went after the escaped Death Eaters, snatchers and some Ministry officials who had really abused their power during Thicknesse’s regime. Of course, there had been occasions in which they had had to investigate who was behind an attack, but it usually was much more straightforward, nothing like this.

“What if John Malbard is not really a Muggleborn?” suggested Hermione.

“We thought about that, but I’ve told you, his parents were Muggles. They were lawyers.”

“Yes, yes, it’s just — it’s too rare. Robert Notte was a Muggle as well, though he could have been a squib …” She fell silent, staring off into space, the slice of pizza she had been about to take into her mouth hanging close to her lips. Then she seemed to come out of her reverie and looked at Ron. “Would anyone do something like that? Abandoning a child for being a squib? Though how could they know at that age? Some children don’t reveal themselves as magical until they are seven years old. No one would do that, would they?” asked Hermione, seeking reassurance.

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. You know how some of the families are. Remember Sirius’s family tree? Doubt a squib would appear in there … Abandoning them, however …” He wanted to believe that even the most fanatic purebloods wouldn’t have done that. Maybe keeping the child as a secret, but not abandoning them, but he wasn’t able to convince himself. “Though you’re right, he was left in that orphanage when he was a baby. He could have been a wizard. If we’re right about our assumptions and he comes from a magical family.”

“Could they have left him in there for other reasons? Not due to whether he had magic or not, but because of her father or mother?”

“Could be, I suppose … Hard to know. I wanted to ask you — Is there a registry or magical births?”

Hermione shook her head and let out a frustrated sigh. “No, there’s not, though I’ve always thought that there should. I mean, the Ministry doesn’t even know how many wizards and witches live in the country!”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” nodded Ron.

“I’ll push for something like that. I mean, the Ministry should know who’s under its jurisdiction, shouldn’t it? Just like Hogwarts headmaster or headmistress know whom to send —” Her eyes became the size of saucers, and she dropped the half-eaten slice of pizza onto her plate. “That’s it! Hogwarts!”

Ron looked at her, confused. “What about it?”

“Ron, at age eleven, every magical child of Britain receives a letter from Hogwarts, even Muggleborns! There is an enchanted scroll that keeps track of all magical births! How could I forget about that? I’ve read about it about a hundred times in _Hogwarts: a history_!”

“Only a hundred?” commented Ron, teasing.

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Ron.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

“The Scroll of Names was created by the four founders; it was a really amazing piece of magical craftmanship from them. They wanted to invite all magical children, but then there wasn’t a government like nowadays, every wizard and witch lived as they wanted and wherever they wanted. With the book, they ensured that every child had an opportunity to learn magic in the school.”

“And you suggest we contact McGonagall to ask about Notte and Malbard?”

“Yes. Maybe there are more information on the scroll, besides the name of the child.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Harry and —”

“No need. We need to give Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and Neville the invitations to our wedding. We can do that tomorrow once we leave my parents’ and ask her.” He gave him a pointed stare. “You noticed that I got the cards and envelopes for the invitations, did you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did.”

“We should have all the invitation sent by next week, Ron.”

“I know, I know. We can work on the rest on Sunday. After coming from The Burrow?”

She nodded and took another bite of her pizza. Then she looked at it, as if noticing for the first time what she was eating. “You know what? I think we’re getting really good at this. It’s much tastier, and far healthier, than any other we could buy out there.”

Ron stared at her for a moment, and then laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Quite the change of subject, don’t you think?”

“Well, we really make an amazing pizza …”

“Oh, Love,” Ron said, grinning. “ _Everything_ we do together is amazing.”

Hermione burst into laughter, and Ron followed her.

This was exactly what he needed and wanted. Wherever Hermione was, for him it was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed the revelations in this chapter. I’d love to hear what you think and your theories about what’s happening. Remember that comments and reviews are always encouragement and make me want to write more. Of course, you’re forgiven if, instead of commenting, you write your own romione stories with loads of smut.  
> Anyway, next chapter will be published after the next update of Discovering Ourselves. See you!


	5. Weekends are for Family and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for visiting family and friends and deliver some wedding invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

“So, how’re the preparations for the wedding going?” Hermione’s father asked. They had finished the main course and Hermione’s mother had gone to the kitchen for tea and coffee. They usually ate in the kitchen, as they were just four, but today Hermione’s mother had insisted they ate in their living room.

“We’re going to send the invitations this week,” said Hermione. “Everything’s going well.”

“Magic is really amazing,” commented her father, amused. “If you were having a Muggle wedding, you’d have had to start months ago. It usually takes a year. Nowadays, even longer sometimes. Things were easier when Jane and I got married. Now weddings have gone a bit out of hand.”

“A year?” asked Ron, horrified. “That long?”

“Yes,” nodded William Granger, smiling. “Remember when Christine and Andrew got married? They sent the invitations nine months before the wedding.”

“Oh, yes, right, that really makes me glad for magic,” said Ron. Christine was Hermione’s cousin, the eldest daughter or William’s sister Monica. She was four years older than Hermione and had got married two years ago. It had been Ron’s first — and up until now, only — Muggle wedding.

“You’re so lazy,” commented Hermione with a good-natured smile.

“Oh, and you prefer to be arranging flowers and such instead of changing the Wizarding world, right?” replied Ron, and Hermione blushed a bit.

“Touché,” she said in a low voice, and her father let out a laugh.

In that moment, Hermione’s mother came back, carrying a tray with Hermione’s favourite cake, a radiant smile on her face. “Surprise!” she yelled.

“Mum!” Hermione exclaimed, shocked. Being dentists, only on very special occasions did the Grangers have things like cakes. It was the only thing Ron didn’t like about coming to Hermione’s parents’ house, though, according to Hermione, since he had started coming it happened much more frequently because her mother simply ‘liked Ron way too much.’

Hermione’s mum put the cake on the centre of the table and Ron grinned at Hermione’s delighted expression. This cake was made in an old bakery near here, and it was the one she always got during her birthdays — and only her birthdays! As during her time as a Hogwarts student she always was at school for that celebration, she had missed it for years, so she loved when her parents bought it.

“You knew about this!” said Hermione, looking accusingly at Ron.

“It was his idea, in fact,” confessed her mother. “He sent us a note yesterday morning telling us your presentation had been very well and asking us to get one to treat you.”

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” added her father, grasping her hand in his.

“Oh, Mum, Dad …” She got up and to embrace them both and then gave Ron a quick kiss. “Thank you,” she muttered to him.

Ron just grinned at her.

They ate the delicious cake as they talked about Hermione’s presentation. After lunch, Ron and Hermione took care of the cleaning with magic and then the four of them sat down on the couches.

“And how’s work going for you, Ron?” asked Hermione’s father.

Ron’s smile vanished and his expression turned serious at once. “Far worse than I’d like, to be honest,” responded Ron with sincerity.

“Oh. How’s that? Did something happen?” William inquired, both he and his wife looking at Ron with concern. Hermione took his hand in hers for support.

“There have a been a series of attacks that leave the victims unconscious and unable to wake up. We were ordered to watch our boss’s mains suspect’s home, but he left it last Wednesday. During that time there was another attack, and so, as a result, Harry and I are no longer partners,” he blurted out.

“What!? Just for that?”

“We had argued against the involvement of Goyle — the suspect — and he considered that not being localizable while another crime was committed was proof that he is guilty. As we did nothing to prevent it, he separated us.”

“Oh, dear, we’re so sorry to hear that!” exclaimed Hermione’s mum.

“But — is what you did so terrible? Because it doesn’t look that way to me. How were you going to stop that man if you didn’t have proof against him? And didn’t you tell us that your boss was on leave and the deputy head of your office didn’t like you at all?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like us much, no. And well, regarding the case, the truth is that —”

“There’s nothing wrong with how they acted,” interjected Hermione. “Legally, they did all they could have done. And by the way, there is not definitively proof Gallory is right and Goyle’s guilty. The case is still open.”

“Well, I don’t think that man Gallory is a very fair person, and certainly, not a good boss,” declared Hermione’s father, scowling.

Ron smiled slightly. It was wonderful to have Hermione’s parents angry on his behalf. However, despite everything, he felt the need to justify Gallory a bit.

“He suffered a very traumatic experience during the war,” he explained, not wanting to give more details.

“So did Hermione, but that didn’t turn her into an unjust person,” replied her father. Ron didn’t know how to argue with that. At least, without revealing all the truth, what he didn’t want to do.

“He hates Goyle’s father,” said then Hermione. “And well, some of the evidence points to him, but even if he’s involved, we think he’s just an accomplice,” she explained, and Ron nodded. “The problem is that he made an Unbreakable Vow not to disclose what he had been doing while the attacks took place, so there is no solid evidence against him. By what Ron and Harry have found out, it makes no sense for Goyle to be part of this. I mean, he’s just finished his probation period, during which he was forbidden from using a wand. Why would he risk getting involved in something like this?”

“Money?” suggested her father.

“What?” asked Ron.

William Granger shrugged. “It’s what a detective in a series of novels I read time ago used to say when investigating a case. If the suspect was not related to the victims, he always said, ‘follow the money.’”

“But Goyle is from an old family, he must have money …” replied Ron.

“You’re from an old family as well, Ron. Not all purebloods are rich,” countered Hermione.

Ron thought about it. “It might be worth a shot,” he said. “Getting information from the goblins, though …” he trailed off.

“That’s a bureaucratic nightmare, yes,” confirmed Hermione, knowing what he meant, and blushed a bit. During her time in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she had modified legislation so that the Ministry would have to follow very strict rules to get information from Gringotts. Of course, it had made things clear and legal, had ensured that the Ministry could seize the belongings of a witch of wizard if necessary and would make impossible for the Ministry to control the bank, like it had happened under Voldemort’s regime. It had ended the rift created between goblins and wizards after the war, but it always meant tons of paperwork when dealing with them.

But, fortunately, he knew two people that worked in there, and though what they could tell him couldn’t be used in a trial, he’d get the information sooner.

“Well, I’m sure things will get better,” said Hermione’s father, smiling encouragingly at him. “And changing the subject to happier things, now that you’re about to get married, when do you plan on making me a grandfather?”

Ron, who had just taken a sip of his tea, almost spluttered all over the coffee table. Hermione openly stared at her father. Her mother, however, scolded her husband.

“Will! What kind of question is that? That’s nothing of your concern!”

“Of course it is,” he replied, unapologetic. “they’ll be my grandchild, after all. I’d love to have a little boy or girl running all around,” he said dreamily.

“Well — we want children, of course, but we haven’t yet decided about when or anything like that,” stuttered Ron, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The idea of children implied sex, and he always made an effort to avoid thinking of that in front of Hermione’s parents. More often than not, he failed, but in those occasions at least he didn’t have to talk about what was going through his dirty mind.

“We’re still young, Dad. So please, no pressure. You’ll be a granddad when the time comes, okay?”

“All right, sweetie,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. “It’s just, you’re both in good positions, you have a house that’s already paid, and I’m still young to play and run after them!”

“ _Dad_ ,” warned Hermione, giving him one of her stern glares.

“Yes, yes, I shut up,” he said. He looked at Ron. “Want to see the last game I got for the computer, Ron?”

“Yeah!” said Ron eagerly. “What’s it about? Driving?”

“No, no, this one is a shooter. You must find weapons and kill the other players before they do you in. It’s very fun, you’ll see!”

Hermione’s mother rolled her eyes. “Seriously …”

Ron heard Hermione laugh as he followed his excited father-in-law to the study.

* * *

After spending two hours learning how to blow the heads of the other players in the game, who seemed to jump and move faster than Cornish pixies, Hermione came to tell him they should get going if they wanted to go to Hogwarts.

Ron, who was having loads of fun, groaned, but got up anyway. They said goodbye to Hermione’s parents and then Disapparated, materialising again near the Hogwarts gates.

“Hermione, we need to buy a computer. It’s a—amazing!”

Hermione stared at him, shaking her head. “Really, Ron? A computer?”

“Well, we want our children to know everything about both worlds, and I think computers are almost essential for Muggles now.”

“Surely that’s the reason,” nodded Hermione, seeing right through him. They crossed the doors, which, like before the war, were now always open during the school year, and took the path towards the castle. As they walked, Ron turned his face towards the Quidditch pitch and saw players in the air, probably during a training session.

“Sometimes I miss this,” he said, nostalgic.

“Do you?” she asked. “You could have come back for your eight year and didn’t.”

“Well, I didn’t miss it _that_ much. I miss the Quidditch, the food, the meals in the Great Hall, being in the common room with all our friends, seeing you and Harry every day …” he listed.

“You _live_ with me and see Harry practically every day!”

“Yeah, I know, but — dunno.” He shrugged.

“I know what you mean,” she said after a minute. “We met and became friends here, and lived so many adventures. Of course, we died almost every year, but still. It wasn’t the same that last year, without you two, even though I was with Ginny. But well, now we live — and sleep — together.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, grinning. “That I wouldn’t change. For anything.”

Hermione laughed as they kept walking, until someone shouting their names made them stop.

“Hi, Hagrid!” said Ron with a big grin. The approached the half-giant, who had just stepped out of his shack. The moment they were in front of him, he took them both in a crushing embrace.

“I’m so glad tew see yeh!” he said once he had released them and they could breathe properly once more. “Saw yeh through the window an’ couldn’ believe my own eyes. How’re yeh doin’? What brings yeh ‘ere in the middle of winter?”

“Well, we wanted to see you, Neville and Professor McGonagall,” Ron told him.

“Yeh came to see me? Did somethin’ happen?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, but nothing bad,” responded Ron.

“Come in, then,” he told them, stepping to the side. Ron and Hermione entered, and he noticed, happily, that everything looked almost the same. That was a comfort, as he had very fond memories of this place. He only hoped Hagrid hadn’t made any cakes.

“Do yeh want anythin’? A cuppa, perhaps?”

“No, Hagrid, thanks. We’ve just left my parents’ house and already had tea.”

“Me neither,” added Ron.

“Well, what brin’s yeh two to the Highlands, then?” Hagrid asked, leaning back on his armchair.

“Well, we wanted to bring you this,” said Hermione, producing the letter with his invitation and giving it to him. Hagrid took it, examining it with curiosity, and then opened it. The moment he read it, his eyes opened wide. “Yeh’re getting married!”

“Yes,” nodded Hermione. “The twenty-fourth of July. And you must come!”

“Oh, of course I shall! Oh, this is so amazing, yeh two, gettin’ married! I remember when yeh couldn’t stop rowin’ and bickerin’, and now — Oh, I’m so happy for you!” he said, almost sobbing and, getting up, took a couple of steps towards them and caught them in another bone-crushing hug. “Oh, these are fantastic news!”

“Hagrid, we can’t breathe,” said Ron, suffocated.

Hagrid released them, telling them he was sorry, and sat back down, wiping his eyes with a large handkerchief. “Oh, if Fang were still alive, he would be so happy as well … He was so fond of you …”

“Oh, Hagrid,” said Hermione. Fang had died three years ago and Hagrid was still emotional about him.

They talked for another twenty minutes, Hagrid telling them all about Hogwarts and how everything was so calm in the school with neither of them in there, while they told him about their jobs at the Ministry. Then, they got up, as they still had to see Neville and McGonagall.

Hagrid told them that Neville was surely in Greenhouse 2, as he used to check on some plants he was working on before dinner every day, son Ron and Hermione went in that direction. The door was opened, and they peered inside. Effectively, Neville was in there, examining what looked like a large specimen of Underwater Cactus.

“Hi, Neville,” greeted Hermione. Neville, slightly startled, raised his head to see who had disturbed him. The moment he caught sight of them his face broke into a wide, bright smile.

“Ron! Hermione!”

“You know it’s Saturday, don’t you, Neville?” teased Ron.

“Well, plants require attention every day,” Neville said, taking off his gloves and wiping his hands in a towel. “What a nice surprise, seeing you two here! It’s been — how long? A month or so?”

“Since before the term started, Neville,” corrected Hermione, smiling.

“That much?” he asked, a bit surprised. Then he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Time flies, eh?” he said, grinning. “And it could be longer, as you almost missed me; I’m meeting Hannah for dinner in an hour.”

“Well, we won’t entertain you much, then. You’ll want to wash up, I suppose,” said Ron, grinning.

“Funny, Ron,” said Neville, letting out a laugh. “Yes, I should take a long shower. The Underwater Cactus is an amazing specimen, but reeks horribly.”

“This looks amazing, Neville,” commented Hermione, looking all around. “I don’t remember that there ever were so many plants in here, especially some as exotic as an Underwater Cactus. It only grows under the sea around Madagascar!”

“Yeah,” said Neville proudly. “I wanted the students to know species from other parts of the world as well. And Luna always brings me something new every time she comes from one of her travels. The cactus was her Christmas present, in fact.”

“Ah, Luna,” said Ron fondly. “How’s she doing? It’s a shame she didn’t come to our Christmas reunion.”

“She’s busy,” said Neville. “Wrote me a letter a week ago or so.” His smile broadened and he told them, in a slightly conspiratorial tone, “I think she and Rolf are going to get married.”

“Yeah?” asked Ron, surprised. Despite knowing about Luna’s relationship with Rolf Scamander, he had always assumed she was too special to do something as _normal_ as getting married. It was a stupid notion, of course, but still. “Well, that’s a wedding I don’t want to miss.”

“Those are amazing news!” exclaimed Hermione, happy. “And well, if we’re talking about weddings …” She delved into her bag and extracted Neville and Hannah’s invitation. Neville took it and then beamed at them.

“So you set a definitive date, then?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron.

“Oh, it’s about time!” he shouted. “If I weren’t covered in dirt, I’d give you a hug! When?”

“Twenty-fourth of July,” said Ron.

“Seriously, guys, congratulations! Of course, I’ll be there!” he declared. “Sometimes I can’t believe how long we’ve come since our first years here,” he added, nostalgic, as he looked around.

“Yeah, seems unreal, eh?” commented Ron. “I managed to convince Hermione to marry me. If you had told me this in first year, I’d have believed you had been Confunded.”

“In first year you didn’t even know what being Confunded was, Ron,” said Hermione. “And, anyway — what was wrong with me back then, may I ask?”

“Nothing, Love, nothing!” said Ron quickly. “I was referring to me! I mean that everyone surely thought I was too idiot for someone as wonderful as you!”

Hermione stared at him for a bit, cocking her head in thought, but then she simply said, “No. Not too idiot. The right amount, I think.” She winked at Neville, who was watching them, amused. He let out a laugh. “Ah, it’s so good to see things never change!” he said, happy. “Never stop bickering, guys, you’re so good at it.”

“George agrees,” said Ron. “He was the one to tell us that we should call our home ‘Row House.’”

“That was George’s idea? I thought it was because it was partially hidden under a row of trees!”

“Well, that’s the _official_ reason,” explained Ron with a smile.

Neville shook his head, chuckling. “Anyway, how are things going in the Ministry? I read about your presentation, Hermione. It seems you did a really amazing job! If I hadn’t had classes to impart, I’d have attended.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione, blushing slightly but looking proud. “I think it went really well, yes.”

“You’ll be Minister for Magic in no time, you’ll see,” assured Neville.

“That’s what I tell her all the time,” added Ron.

“Oh, I’m just too young. And Kingsley still has two more years until the next election and I think he still wants to present himself.”

“In nine years, then,” said Neville. Hermione laughed and shook her head. Neville looked at Ron. “What about the Auror Office? I read about this new case, but you’re not in it, are you? The Prophet mentioned Ladnus.”

Ron’s expression turned serious at once. “We were, sort of,” he said vaguely. “You know Robards is on leave, do you?”

“Yeah. Nasty incident, that one, though I was so glad Rabastan was finally arrested. After we caught Rodolphus two years ago, he was the last one of the group that attacked my parents still free. I attended the trial but didn’t see any of you.”

“I know,” said Ron. “Katie told us you came to the office, but we were busy elsewhere.” He made a pause before continuing. “Anyway, Gallory is acting as temporary head, so …”

“Don’t tell me more,” said Neville, nodding in understanding. “He is still making your life difficult? One would think he would have got over it.”

“Well, he hasn’t,” said Ron. “He separated Harry and me.”

“What!?” Neville exclaimed, shocked. “Is he mad? I mean, you’re amazing together!”

Ron just shrugged.

“I can’t believe it,” Neville added, shaking his head. “Do Kingsley or Knowton know?”

“It happened on Thursday, so I don’t think so.”

“Well, when they do, you two will be a team once more, you’ll see.” He checked his watch. “Shit, I’m really sorry to leave you, I’d love to invite you for a drink, but I must get going. But we’ve got to get together soon to celebrate this, and soon,” he said, raising the envelope in his hand.

“Definitively,” nodded Ron.

“Do you need anything else? I imagine you already saw Hagrid.”

“We’ve got an appointment with Professor McGonagall,” answered Hermione.

“I’ll accompany you inside, then,” said Neville.

They exited the greenhouse and entered the castle. It was still early for dinner, but some students were already in the Great Hall, doing homework or playing games.

“Do you know if she’s is in her office?” asked Hermione as they started climbing the great staircase. “We’re ten minutes early.”

“I haven’t seen her all afternoon, so I assume she is.” They reached the second floor and Neville stopped. “Well, we go our separate ways from here. Thanks for visiting me and congratulations again.”

“Well, now it’s your turn to bring us good news,” said Ron. “Even Seamus is engaged!”

Neville laughed, though he was blushing a bit. “Yeah. Remember when he used to say he’d never get married because he wasn’t that cruel to deny the rest of the women his ‘amazing, lean body’?”

Ron guffawed. “I had forgotten about that!”

“Well, see you, guys,” said Neville, still hiccupping.

“Bye, Neville,” said Hermione. He walked away along a corridor while Ron and Hermione continued their way up to the seventh floor.

“He really said that?” Hermione asked. “Seamus, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah!” nodded Ron, grinning. “‘My amazing, lean body and my large cock.’ That was the entire sentence, but I suppose Neville didn’t want to sound crude in front of you.”

Hermione let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You, however, don’t have a problem with being crude in front of me.”

“Not at all,” he said, giving her his lopsided smile.

They walked in silence the rest of the way and stopped in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance. “We’re here to see the headmistress,” announced Hermione. “We’re Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

The gargoyle nodded and, about ten seconds later, she moved, revealing the entrance. “Go in.”

“Thank you.”

“Mr Weasley, Ms Granger,” said Professor McGonagall pleasantly when they entered her office, getting up and walking around the desk to greet then. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” nodded Hermione. “Thank you for receiving us on a Saturday, Professor.”

“Please, Ms Granger, you two will always be welcome at Hogwarts.” She signalled two chairs for them to sit, and she moved back to her own. “May I offer you a cup of tea? Wine? Anything else?”

“No, thank you,” said Hermione.

“Very well. So — what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, clasping her hands on the top of the desk.

“First of all, we wanted to give you this,” said Hermione, and, for the third time that afternoon, produced an envelope with a name from her bag. McGonagall took it, intrigued, and then her lips curved into a smile of happiness.

“This is what I think it is?” she asked, starting to open it.

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. “We’d like for you to come to our wedding, Professor.”

McGonagall read the invitation and nodded, touched. “I’ll be delighted to attend, Mr Weasley. I really enjoy seeing the way you lot have grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you so much, Professor,” said Hermione, who looked positively ecstatic. Despite having left Hogwarts almost five years ago, there were very few people from whom praise meant more to her than the headmistress.

“I assume this is not all, as you could have sent this by owl. You didn’t need to ask for an appointment,” she added shrewdly. “Or I am mistaken?”

“No, you’re right,” said Hermione, adopting a more formal demeanour. “You see, Ron and Harry are investigating a case. I imagine you’ve read about it in the papers.”

“Those attacks where the victims are left in a coma from which they can’t wake up?” the professor asked, and Ron nodded. “Yes. Personnel from St Mungo came to ask professors Knockle and Slughorn about curses and potions that could cause such an effect, but with no result. The Draught of Living Death can cause something similar, but there is an antidote that they had already tried with no result. So, if you’re here to ask about that, I’m sorry you’re wasting your time.”

“No, it’s not about that — though it’s good to know,” said Hermione. “Ron and Harry discovered something about the Muggle and Muggleborn victims that points to them possibly being related. But the people that could confirm that truth are mostly dead, so we’d like to know if we could check the Scroll of Names. I know this is rather irregular, and I could sign a document to make this request official —”

“That won’t be necessary,” said McGonagall, dismissing Hermione’s concerns. “Of course, what you say it’s true, and if such information were needed for a trial we’d need to go through that procedure, but, being you a high-ranked official and Mr Weasley an Auror, we can forget about the formalities.”

“Thank you.”

“The names we’re looking for are from many years ago,” intervened Ron. “Do you keep the scrolls after decades?”

“We keep almost all of them, Mr Weasley. Since 1346, in fact. The ones before that date are lost, though I don’t know why. Which year are you interested in?”

“1948 and 1972,” said Ron.

“Come with me.”

Hermione and Ron followed McGonagall through a door, then a narrow corridor and finally, to a large chamber full of cabinets.

“These are the Hogwarts archives,” said McGonagall, moving a hand in a circle to indicate the room. Hermione walked in and looked all around, in awe.

“Merlin …” she muttered.

“The scrolls are here,” McGonagall said, motioning for them to follow her past a few rows of cabinets. Then she turned to the right and Ron and Hermione found themselves in front of a series of drawers marked with dates. Each drawer seemed to contain information about fifty years or so. McGonagall moved to the drawer labelled ‘1942 – 1993’ and opened it. She extracted two scrolls from it and gave it to them. Ron and Hermione opened the first one, 1948, and looked at the list.

“This only lists names and birthdays,” said Hermione, slightly disappointed. “No parent names?”

“No, just names of the children.”

“True names?” asked Ron, and McGonagall frowned, not understanding. “I mean, if Harry’s uncles had renamed him Harold Dursley, which name would appear here?”

“The official one,” explained McGonagall. “It would list Harry Potter at first, but, if his name changed legally to Harold Dursley, the name would change as well.”

“I see,” said Ron, nodding. “But there’s no way to know if a name has changed, right?”

McGonagall shook her head.

“Robert Notte doesn’t appear here,” said Hermione, who had read the list while Ron and McGonagall talked. “There’s no Robert in this year.”

“Is there a way to hide a magical child from appearing in the scroll?” Ron asked.

“Not that I know of. Only if the child were born in a country not associated with Hogwarts, but still, the name would appear in the one scroll if they moved here before his their eleventh birthday.”

“So then the name could be in another year, not the one in which they were born?”

“It could,” nodded McGonagall. “Every year, we revise the scrolls for the last ten years.”

“But Robert Notte was admitted in the orphanage in 1948, Ron.”

“Could he have been born the year before?”

McGonagall opened the drawer once more and took the scroll for 1947. She gave it to Ron, and he read the list. Nothing.

Meanwhile, Hermione had read the scroll about 1972, the year John Malbard had been born. As expected, his name was on the list, but just like that: ‘ _John Anthony Malbard, 12rd of March, 1972._ ’”

She gave the parchment back to McGonagall. “Sorry,” the headmistress said apologetically.

“Not your fault, Professor,” said Ron, a bit disappointed. “We didn’t really expect to find anything different.”

They went back to the office, and, after saying their goodbyes, Ron and Hermione used the fireplace to travel to their house.

“Well, at least we know Notte was not a wizard,” said Hermione as they stepped out, trying to look into the bright side.

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, though he didn’t see it the same way as his fiancé. In fact, he thought they were back to square one.

“Are you hungry?” Hermione asked, taking off her cloak. “I, not much. What about a couple of sandwiches? And Mum gave me the leftovers of the cake, they’re already in the freezing cabinet.”

“Sounds good,” nodded Ron. By chance, his eyes caught sight of the calendar on the wall and he gasped. “Hermione.”

“What?” she asked, whipping around to face him on her way to the kitchen.

“Today it’s the fourteenth! St Valentine’s!”

Hermione scoffed. “I know, Ron,” she said. “And you know what I think of this day, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but …”

“But nothing. I don’t want to do anything romantic just because someone thinks we should. We are romantic when we feel like it, be it St Valentine’s or not. As it should be.”

Hermione had told this before, when she was still at Hogwarts. However, when he had mentioned it during a night out with Dean, Seamus, Harry and Neville, Seamus had scoffed, pointing out that ‘all girls say they don’t care, but forget about giving her a present and you’ll find yourself in the doghouse.’ So he had always got her something. Until this year, that is.

“Okay, okay,” nodded Ron, and followed her to the kitchen. He promised himself never to follow anyone’s advice regarding Hermione. He knew her better than anyone and, in any case, he could always ask her.

They prepared their sandwiches together and decided to eat them in the living room, in front of the TV and the fireplace.

Despite the fact that they were watching the TV, Ron noticed that Hermione was too quiet, and, though she was looking at the screen, she looked more thoughtful than focused.

“What’s going on inside that brain of yours?” he asked her.

Hermione, slightly startled, turned her face to look at him. She swallowed, taking some time before answering. “Well, I was thinking about what dad said,” she explained, talking slowly. Ron raised an eyebrow, asking her to elaborate. “About children, I mean.”

“Oh,” nodded Ron. “And?”

“He is right. We have a nice, big house that it’s paid, thanks to what we kept of the money they gave us for winning the Order of Merlin, First Class,” she said, and Ron nodded. Each of them had been awarded fifty thousand galleons, more money than Ron had ever dreamed of having. Harry had given them away at once. Hermione didn’t like the fact that they were winning money for fighting Voldemort, and, though Ron didn’t like the idea much, either — the loss of Fred was still very recent, and it felt like a frivolity, winning money for doing what was right — he remembered what growing up without money was, and he didn’t want that for him and Hermione. So they had reached a deal: they would use part of their combined money to buy a house when they were ready for that and keep a thousand galleons for emergencies. They would give up the rest to St Mungo and other people that needed it more. Magical houses were cheaper to Muggle ones, fortunately, so they had kept thirty thousand galleons out of the hundred they had been given and had donated the rest.

“We both earn a good salary and are settled in our careers,” continued Hermione. “After this law is passed, I want to take things slowly at work. I’ve raced through promotions these past years, and now the next step would be to become a member of the Wizengamot and Deputy Head of the Department. But no one can be a member of the Wizengamot before thirty, so even if I want to go that way, I’ve got years before me. I enjoyed these past years, but I worked a lot, and though you and I had a very good time together and did lots of things, I want to focus on our marriage and us for a bit. I think we’re in the right moment to start a family. Not right now, of course, but maybe in a year or so, I don’t know … What do you think?” she asked him, fidgeting with her hands nervously.

“Well, I am a Weasley, Hermione, family is in our genes.”

“Well, that seems not to be true in Charlie’s case,” she interjected, smiling.

Ron chuckled. “Well, Charlie’s not right in the head, Love. I mean, the guy works with dragons. But, getting back on track — Yeah, I think I’m ready. Don’t get me wrong, the thought of taking care of a baby scares the shit out of me, but Bill told me you never stop feeling that way, so ...” he trailed off, shrugging. “And if you’re ready as well, then let’s do it. What if we talk about this again after the wedding?”

“Yes, that’d be perfect,” nodded Hermione, smiling.

Ron smiled as well and grabbed her hand, bringing her closer to him. He cupped her face and kissed her.

“Ron, your hands are greasy,” she protested, pulling away.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Let me take care of that,” he said, and then grabbed her and began to lick her cheeks.

“Ron!”

Ron laughed and moved away, taking a serviette to clean his hands. Then his eyes fell on the lower part of her thighs, which were bare as she was wearing a flouncy skirt. He put a hand on the right one and began to caress her soft skin.

“I know we didn’t buy each other St Valentine’s presents, but, what if I give you one for free?”

“What are you talking about?”

Ron smirked at her and, slowly, got off the couch and knelt on the rug, now rubbing her knees with both his hands. He pushed her legs apart and moved between them. “I think I could make you feel really good …” he said huskily as he slid his hands up and down her legs, pushing her skirt up with each stroke. Her eyes darkened.

“Ron, we haven’t even eaten the cake and —” she started to say, sounding already aroused.

“Well, as amazing as that cake is, you taste better,” he replied, cutting her in, and then pushed her skirt up all the way, revealing the simple, black cotton panties she had put on today. They were snug, though, and so he could see perfectly the outline of her pussy lips. He licked his own at the sight. Looking back up at her, he moved one hand to her crotch and began to rub her with his thumb over the fabric. She let out a whimper and bucked her hips involuntarily. Ron’s grin widened. “Lift your bum, Hermione.”

For a few seconds, it seemed as if she hadn’t heard him, but them she did as he had asked. Ron hooked his fingers on the waistband and pulled on them slowly, wanting to savour the moment of revealing her body. Her pussy was already glistening.

“Mmmh, you look so fucking good,” he declared, and, throwing her knickers to the side, brought his mouth down to her cunt, giving her a long lick.

“Ohh, Ron …”

“You like it, Love?”

“You know I do,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

Ron gave her a few licks, applying more pressure on her clit, and she shifted on the couch so her bum was on the verge of the cushion and he could eat her out more easily. He looped both his arms around her toned thighs and pushed them apart, licking her with more fervour, eliciting more of those delicious moans from her. When her cunt was completely soaked in her juices and his saliva, he thrust his tongue inside and moved it around quickly, making her squirm.

“Ooooh, Ron, yes! Yes!”

He continued for a bit, when a new idea struck him and he stopped, lifting his face from between her legs.

“Why do you stop?” she asked breathlessly.

“You’re right, I didn’t eat my cake,” he responded with a devilish smirk. Under Hermione’s gaze, he turned towards the table and took his slice of cake with his hands.

“Ron, what are —? RON!” she yelled when he smeared the cake all over her pussy, covering it entirely in it. “It’s cold! And you’re dirtying the couch and the rug!”

“Well, we have something called magic, you know,” said Ron, still grinning. Then he looked at the appetizing display of her cunt covered in cake and attacked it hungrily, grunting animalistically. Hermione gasped and moved her hands to his hair, caressing his locks as he ate her ravenously, his tongue moving all over her.

“How does it taste?” asked Hermione, her voice hoarse.

“Fuck, it’s amazing,” he answered, stopping for a moment. “Pussy and cake … so juicy and tasty,” he told her, and went back to devouring her.

“Ron, suck my clit,” she begged after a bit, her hips moving rhythmically against his face to get more friction. “Suck my clit, I need it.”

Ron gave her a long lick, though her pussy was already devoid of any rest of the cake and the closed his lips around her swollen nub, sucking on it powerfully. Hermione arched her back, almost jumping off the couch.

“YES!”

Grinning, Ron kept sucking on her and moved a finger between her cheeks, touching her asshole slightly. She whimpered again and pulled on his hair, forcing him harder against her.

Ron sucked on her with all his might, using his tongue to lap at it. Then he shoved his thumb into her hole while he kept touching her butthole with his index one. Hermione was now bucking her hips frantically as she moaned and chanted ‘Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, Ron!’ breathlessly.

“Cum for me, Hermione. Give me more of those juices I love so much.”

“Yes, but KEEP SUCKING!” she ordered, pushing him back into her needy pussy. Ron resumed his assault and, barely twenty seconds later, her entire body was seized by a strong, violent orgasm.

“RON, I’M CUMMING! I’M CUMMING!”

Ron kept sucking her as she orgasmed until, too sensitive to stand it anymore, she pushed him off her.

Ron sat down on his bum, panting, while she just rested against the back of the couch with her eyes closed, her chest heaving quickly. He watched her for a bit, too aware of how his cock was throbbing inside his pants. Quickly, he got up and lowered his trousers and pants, freeing his dick. He gave it a few tugs and then looked back at the table, where her uneaten piece of cake lay. Turned on, he took the plate and then approached her. He grasped a handful of cake and then covered his cock in it.

“Shit, it really is cold,” he muttered.

“Ron what are you —?” Hermione asked. She had opened her eyes, and was now facing his coated cock just two foot away from her face.

“You haven’t had your dessert, either,” he answered as he put a foot on the couch next to her legs and pushed his crotch towards her face. “Have it, Hermione,” he ordered, his voice dripping with desire.

Hermione looked at his cock intently, her eyes dark with hunger. Just seeing her staring at him like that made his dick throb. She glanced up at his eyes, and then, while Ron waited, his heart beating at top speed, she moved her head forward and gave his tip a tentative lick. She savoured it and moaned.

“Take more,” demanded Ron, brimming with anticipation.

She put he hands on his hips and then, with her eyes fixed on his, she engulfed half of his shaft really slowly. Then she closed her lips tightly and pulled back, taking the cake in her mouth. She rolled it around erotically, and then went back for more, sucking on his cock to take the rest.

“Yeah, like that,” he whispered, aching with arousal. When his cock was clean, he pushed her away from it and smeared more cake from the plate on it. “Have more.”

Hermione moaned as she took his cock back into her sinful mouth, swallowing it almost entirely. She sucked with fervour, one of her tiny, delicate hands moving to cup his sack and play with it.

“Suck it hard,” he demanded. “Suck it hard and get more cream for your cake, Hermione.”

Hermione moaned louder and sucked forcefully, her head moving up and down his shaft quickly before retreating. This time it was she who took the rest of the cake and put it on his cock, eyeing it hungrily before swallowing it once more. She sucked hard and fast, her tongue playing with his tip and sending into overdrive with pleasure. She kneaded his balls with relish, battering the cum he was eager to pour into her mouth and down her throat.

“Give me more cream for my cake, Ron …”

Grunting, Ron put his hands on her head and began to fuck her mouth. She sucked hard, taking all of it. They were making a lot of noise: Ron grunting, Hermione sucking sloppily while she moaned.

“Hermione … Cumming!”

She sucked harder, taking even more, and swallowed powerfully. His balls tightened and then he shot, his dick spurting four times into the back of her throat.

Hermione kept sucking as he moaned in delight, and then pulled a bit away, sucking on the tip to get every drop. Finally, feeling boneless, he fell next to her on the couch, panting.

“Fuck, that was one hell of a blowjob, Hermione.”

Hermione chuckled and lay over him, leaning to give him a kiss.

“How was your cake?” he asked.

“The best ever,” she responded, and Ron groaned, his cock twitching again. He brought her down for another kiss. It intensified, and, as they snogged, Ron manoeuvred them so he was lying along the couch and she was straddling him. The feel of her hot pussy against his dick caused his blood to stream down into it. He moaned and moved his hands to her bum, grabbing a handful of her perfect cheeks.

“If we’re going to have children, we should practice, don’t you think?” he asked.

“You think we don’t have enough practice?” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, Love, as you say, one is never prepared enough …”

“Umh, I’m glad you listen to me,” she said softly, and they resumed their kiss. She began to grind her hips against his, and, when his cock hardened completely, she shifted and positioned her hole against the tip, impaling herself on it.

“Fuck, Hermione …”

“Mmmh, feels so good …”

They kissed again and then Hermione began to ride him, using his chest for leverage. Ron, wanting to see her tits, lifted the shirt she had been wearing up, bunching it over her bra-clad breasts. He kneaded them over the cups with eagerness, and she arched her back to push them more into his hands. Wishing she was wearing one of those with the clasp on the front, Ron pushed the bra up as well, freeing her tits, and took possession of them while she increased her speed on top of him.

Ron watched as she became wild, her hair flying freely all around her, making her pleasure-ridden face look even more beautiful. She looked like a goddess, taking his cock over and over and stroking it so tightly with her snug cunt.

“Oh, Ron, I’m getting close again … Oh, fuck …”

“Cum for me, Hermione. Milk my cock with your amazing twat. Drain my balls.”

Hermione raised her hips more and slammed down onto his groin very forcefully one, two, three times, and then threw her head backwards and let out a wail of pleasure as unbelievable pleasure took control of her body for the second time that evening. Ron felt her clenching rhythmically around his shaft and began to fuck her from below, thrusting upwards forcefully, helping her to ride out her orgasm and to get his started.

As she slumped over him, unable to move, Ron gave one hard, last thrust and emptied himself into her pussy, his hands clutching her ass tightly.

“Fucking shit …” he moaned, sated.

“Mmmh,” Hermione moaned, giving him a kiss. “I love you, Ron.”

“I love you too.”

“I need a shower,” she said, getting up.

“Yeah, so do I. Want to share?”

Hermione smiled at him and leaned towards him with a coy smile. “ _I_ am going to take a shower. You, mister, are going to clean the couch and the rug,” she whispered, and then, laughing, ran away from him.

“Hey!” protested Ron, watching her naked ass sway as she disappeared upstairs. He shook his head and looked down, at the couch and the rug, covered in crumbs of the cake.

“Amazing idea, Ron Weasley,” he said with a smile as he looked for his wand.

* * *

Sundays at The Burrow were always a boisterous, loud affair, especially now, with Teddy Lupin, which Harry always brought, Victoire and Louis — Bill and Fleur’s children — and Molly — Percy’s daughter. Add to that the girlfriends or wives and, in case of Ginny, husband, and The Burrow could pass for Honeydukes on a Hogsmeade weekend.

This weekend, Percy and Audrey hadn’t come, as they were with Audrey’s parents, but Molly had made a big feast in honour of Hermione. However, the celebration had been dampened by what had happened to Ron and Harry.

When Hermione and he arrived, Ginny and Harry were already there, and his mother had been already informed of what had happened. Ron had groaned at this, as he preferred not to talk about it. Everything seemed to be going fine in his life besides his job and he wanted to forget about it.

But his mum had immediately embraced him and had started on a tirade about Gallory, calling him every foul name she could think of without being too crude.

Unless the previous days, the weather had turned out quite right that Sunday, and Bill had created a warmth bubble so Victoire, Teddy and Louis could stay outside without catching a cold. So, after lunch, as talking started about the wedding, Ron went out for a bit of fresh air and watched Victoire and Teddy play while little Louis tried to follow them. He tried to imagine his and Hermione’s son or daughter in there as well and smiled at the mental image of a child with a red mane of wild curls crawling around.

“You’re fairly quiet today,” commented George, who had approached him without him noticing. “Already weary of the wedding preparations?” he asked with a smirk.

“Funny, George. No. Just needed some air.”

“It has been really that bad, your week?” George inquired, now talking more seriously.

“Yeah. I just —” He stopped for a moment, not knowing what to say, or if he really wanted to say it. But after the war he had become really close to George and so, before he realised he was doing it, he was speaking. “I’m not sure I want to be an Auror for the rest of my life,” he confessed.

George looked at him, thinking about what Ron had said, and then nodded. “But you loved it,” he said at last. “I remember when you started your training.”

“Yeah. It was exciting, and adventurous. But it’s quite dangerous as well, and I dunno if having a family and being an Auror is a good idea …Dangers, unpredictable hours sometimes, night shifts every once in a while …”

George stared at him, open-mouthed. “ _Hermione is pregnant?_ ”

“No!” Ron denied. “And lower your voice, will you? I don’t want Mum ripping my bollocks off.” He made a pause and looked again at the children. “She’s not pregnant, but we’ve been talking about children. However, it’s not just that. Lately it is mostly paperwork and I just don’t find it fulfilling anymore. And if I don’t work with Harry either then …” he trailed off, shrugging.

“What about when Robards comes back?” George asked. “Won’t he put Harry and you back together?”

Ron shrugged. “I don’t know.”

George looked at the children as well, and both brothers stood in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s curious you tell me this, because I’ve been meaning to talk to you as well. About the shop.”

Ron turned his head to look at him questioningly.

“The shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are going really well. They’re making tons of money and I was thinking about expanding. You know, opening a shop abroad. Paris, maybe, or New York.” Ron nodded, though he didn’t understand where he was going with that. “But I need a partner for that, Ron. I’ve been thinking about this for a few months and it’s always your name that comes to my mind. I mean, you helped me to get the shop back on track after — well, after the war. I couldn’t have done it without you. You know the business and are good at it. And, after all, the company is called ‘Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ and I’m just _one_ Weasley.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” Ron asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I’m telling you that if you’re interested, then you have a position as full partner awaiting you.”

“Really?” asked Ron, who didn’t know how to feel.

“Yeah. You’d have a more flexible schedule and well, the job is not dangerous,” he said. “Well, most of the time,” he added with a grin.

Ron let out a laugh. “Yeah. Most of the time.”

“And the money is good as well. More than you can make as an Auror,” George added, and Ron smiled.

“Well, thanks for thinking of me, George. It’s tempting, I admit it, but I don’t know.”

“It’s much more fun than being an Auror,” continued George. “Now that we’re being honest, I always wondered why you had become an Auror. Not that you aren’t good at it or anything, you are,” he was quick to say, seeing Ron’s frown. “But it’s — Well, it’s too serious.”

“Too serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, we Weasleys are made for fun, not serious business, everyone knows that. Look at dad, all day playing with Muggle trash. Kingsley made him Head of Magical Law Enforcement after the was and he stayed in that position just until things had calmed down, then went back to his old job. Then you have Ginny, who plays Quidditch; Fred and me, owners of a joke shop; Charlie works with dragons; even Bill, despite working for a bank, made a life out of breaking into old tombs and undoing ancient curses. And then you come and become an Auror.” He shook his head in mock disapproval.

“What about Percy?” Ron asked, amused.

George tsked. “Percy’s an oddity for a Weasley.”

Ron laughed.

“Just think about that, okay? Tell me once you’ve decided. There’s no hurry.”

Ron nodded. “I will. Thanks, George. Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? I’m still confused, and I want to talk to Hermione first.”

“Don’t worry.”

“George, Ron! Do you want tea?” shouted Angelina from a window.

“Yeah, coming!” George yelled back. They took a last look at the children, who seemed to be in their own world, and walked back inside.

“Are ze children all right?” Fleur asked when she saw then enter.

“Perfectly fine,” responded George, taking a seat next to Bill. Ron sat next to Hermione and Harry.

“I was telling Bill about checking on Goyle’s Gringotts account,” Hermione told him in a low voice.

Ron looked at his brother. “Could you do it? Off the record?”

“In fact, it’s Fleur who could,” he said, nodding towards his wife.

Everyone stared at her.

“I’ll try to get a record of ‘is vault movements,” she told them. “But I can’t promise anyzeeng.”

“Yes, of course. Thanks in a advance.”

“So evidence points to Goyle, then?” asked Bill.

“Some of it,” said Ron, glad that Percy wasn’t here, or he would be making a fuss about the revelation of confidential information and all that shit. Hermione, thank Merlin, was much more accommodating.

“It seems that all the victims are related in some way, though everyone who could tell us something seems to be dead,” explained Harry. “Whichever this is, it seems to be related to the Notts, but exactly how, we don’t know. And I’m sure if we go to talk to them, they won’t tell us anything.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. “Even if there were rumours, part of it happened more than fifty years ago. Who could we ask that is not involved?”

“Well, if you want rumours and stories, you could go and see Aunt Muriel,” piped in George with a smirk.

Ron grimaced. “Aunt Muriel? _Really_?”

“Oh, yeah,” nodded George. “When we stayed there during the war, she didn’t stop telling us stories and things she had heard about people. Most of them bad things, of course.”

“George, don’t speak ill of your aunt,” their Mum scolded him. “She might be — well, _special_ , but she took us in when we needed a place to stay.”

“I know, I know,” said George, looking at Mum, then he turned back to Ron. “But seriously, Ron. If there is a rumour, she knows about it. How much truth might be in it, well …”

“It could work,” said then Harry, surprising him.

“What?”

“Well, she told me lots of things about Dumbledore that night, at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.”

“She told you Ariana was a squib and that Dumbledore’s mother kept her as a prisoner!”

“Yeah, but still, she knew things.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

“So you want us to go and see her? Just like that?”

“Well,” interjected Hermione. “We’ve got to give her the invitation to the wedding, Ron. Maybe it’s time for a visit?” she asked, smiling.

Ron gaped at her, horrified. “We are inviting her? Really?” he asked in a low, almost pleading voice.

“Ronald Weasley!”

“Mum, I want our wedding to be a happy day!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t worry, Molly,” she said, “I’ll take care of it. Ron, tomorrow, after work, we are going to your Aunt’s house in Sussex.”

“Thank you, Hermione, dear.”

Ron just groaned as his siblings sniggered.

Ron glared at them. “Hermione and I’ll be busy that day. It’ll be you, prats, the ones to deal with her, you know,” he pointed out.

That shut them up pretty quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it. I know the plot doesn’t advance much in this chapter, but well, it’s the weekend, after all. I wanted to show a bit of Ron and Hermione’s family life, both with the Grangers and the Weasleys.  
> I hope you liked the food play in the sex scene 😊  
> I’ve almost finished writing this story. The main work to be done is to revise the written chapters and wrap it up (the most boring part!), so the next chapter should be up relatively soon, but I’ll confess that my main focus now is on ‘Discovering Ourselves’, as I’ve passed a milestone in that story and you readers seem to like it more.  
> Many of you have asked me for more plot-driven stories, but I don’t know, there doesn’t seem to be much interest in this one, which might influence what I write once it is over. This story was much harder to write that DO, with all the backstory, so if you prefer simpler, smut-driven ones, I can focus on those.  
> So, tell me what you think. Could it be that my chapters are so long you feel discouraged to read them? I love long chapters, but maybe that’s just me. I must admit that I try to write shorter ones, yet I find it very difficult to do so. Maybe I could split every chapter in two and publish them separately, though that might not work for all chapters.


	6. The Shadows of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new week begins and, though it comes with some interesting findings, it also brings new worries ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is next chapter.  
> I hope you like it!

“What’s up?” Ron asked with concern when, surprisingly, Hermione appeared on his cubicle on Monday morning, looking rather upset.

As a response, she just threw the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ she was carrying on top of his desk. “Read,” she said, her voice trembling.

Ron’s gaze shifted a few times between his fiancé and the newspaper before opening it.

“Page 3,” indicated Hermione.

Ron turned the page and started to read.

_ GRANGER’S (IN)EQUALITY LAW (I) _

_THE TRUTH BEHIND THE PROPOSAL_

_An editorial by Rita Skeeter_

Ron groaned. Rita Skeeter was still working as a journalist — or something like that, as Hermione used to say that putting the word ‘journalist’ together with ‘Rita Skeeter’ should be an insult to any half-decent one in the world. After the war, she had quickly registered herself as an animagus, so she could write about Harry, Ron and Hermione without the threat of Hermione reporting her.

“Love, you always say that we should ignore what she writes, that it’s all a piece of trash and —”

“Read it, Ron.”

Ron looked at her and then nodded, focusing on the article.

_As our readers will surely know, last Friday Ms Hermione Granger, Head of the Legal Office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, presented her long-awaited Equality Law before the Wizengamot._

_The presentation was flawless, as usual. Few of the wizards and witches in Wizarding Britain will deny the many improvements Ms Granger’s changes in legislation have brought to the country. Even less will suggest that Ms Granger has anything but the bests interests of Britain and its citizens at heart._

_Yet, as it’s common knowledge, not everything in Ms Granger’s life is bright and shiny. No, there are obvious shadows in her story. Besides the rumours and accounts of her morally dubious actions regarding Harry Potter and Viktor Krum during the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts in 1994-95; six years have passed since the end of the war and yet there is no complete account of her actions while she was in the run with her two best friends. One of them Auror Ron Weasley, her current fiancé. Among those shadows is the undeniable fact — already reported by the journalist writing these lines — that there is something suspicious about the way she protected her Muggle parents during that year. She has always claimed they went abroad, but there is such secrecy about it, that any curious person can’t help but wonder if there is something more about it. After all, if they simply went away, why did she disappeared for a couple of weeks, taking Ron Weasley with her and away from his grieving family, just to bring them back?_

_Of course, since she started working at the Ministry, there had been no reports of anything shady regarding her. Any investigation regarding her work in there will come out spotless. Maybe too spotless, even for the most honest of officials._

_It’s publicly know that the current and acclaimed Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, is a former member of the Order of the Phoenix and a friend of Granger’s, Weasley’s and Potter’s. And knowing this comes the obvious suspicion: is really Hermione Granger’s work so perfect, or is the Minister using his power to protect, at all costs, the reputation of the Ministry’s rising star?_

_During her four and a half years at the Ministry, Ms Granger has attacked and reformed many laws and regulations. And though many of them were certainly controversial, like those regarding werewolves or giants, they helped the magical community. So, one would think the Equality Law would have the same purpose, that it would eradicate the last differences and give half-bloods, and especially, Muggleborns and squibs, the same rights and opportunities traditionally enjoyed by Purebloods. This certainly would be praiseworthy and understandable, as Ms Granger herself is a Muggleborn. However, behind the lauded benefits of the new law, there are more than a few shadows._

_Of course, the Ministry knows about what lies behind the law, and so has started a very clever campaign, identifying criticism towards the law with support for Pureblood supremacism. Anyone talking against the law, or any aspect of it, is bound to be labelled as a supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named. And who would want something like that? Who would risk it?_

_You, as readers, are surely asking now: what is behind this law that makes it so important? How can there be dark aspects in a law that promises equality for everyone? To find out, we consulted with several legal experts, whose names they don’t want to be publicly disclosed to avoid retaliation. It is known that one of the consequences of the law will be more presence of Muggles in the Wizarding world. Wizards and witches of total or partial Muggle parentage will be able to integrate their worlds more seamlessly than before. On a first, shallow look, this might not seem troublesome, though some could ask how this will affect the traditions and way of life of Wizards and witches. However, what this means, and is not explained, is that Muggles will have more rights and influence in the Wizarding world, while, at the same time, the Statute of Secrecy and this law protects their world from the same interference._

_That seems rather unfair and certainly, the total opposite of what ‘equality’ means. Under the hood, Ms Granger, with the support of minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, is changing a pureblood-first society for a Muggleborn-first one. Is this what the Wizarding world wants, or needs? Would you consider yourselves equals with a friend that always has something to say about your life, while forbidding any interference in theirs?_

_Another expert points out that the fact that more Muggles will be aware of the existence of Magic might put the country in problems with the International Confederation of Wizards regarding the Statute of Secrecy. In a connected world, being in problems with the Confederation or other countries could be an important drawback for the interests and economy of Magical Britain._

_But even though the listed questions are really serious on their own, they aren’t the core of the problem. The hidden intention behind this law is that, as contact between Muggle and Wizards grow, so will relationships between them. In the long time, this means the end of Purebloods. In the short, much more influence and power to those related to Muggles._

_And though blood status should not matter, who will benefit the most from a more Muggle-y Wizarding world? We’ll analyse this point further on the second part of this editorial._

_(End of part I. Part II will be published on tomorrow’s edition.)_

Ron finished reading it and looked at Hermione, who was staring at him, her arms tightly crossed under her chest.

“Hermione, it’s Rita Skeeter. She’s been throwing slander our way since the war. She’s recurring to the same lies she wrote during our fourth year, and what those experts say about your law. Assuming those ‘experts who didn’t want their names to be disclosed’ exist, which I doubt, what they say is not that bad,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “And by the way, what’s _The Prophet_ thinking, letting her write an editorial? Since when is she an expert in politics or legal matters? She wasn’t even at the presentation!” he added with disgust, throwing the newspaper to the floor as if it were something putrid.

“Yeah, I know that, but did you read the last line, Ron? She’s suggesting I’m using this law to gain more power, because Muggleborns and half-bloods are likely to support my — well, the new Ministry’s reforms. She implies I’m trying to get rid of Purebloods so no one will oppose me.”

Ron nodded, understanding where she was going. “I know, Love. But it’s Rita Skeeter. She’d manage to make helping an orphan child look bad. And she doesn’t have a vote in the Wizengamot.”

“She doesn’t, but she can give hope of winning to those who want to oppose it. She’s trying to change the tide of public opinion to the other side! And that was just the first part of her article, Merlin knows what tomorrow’s will say!”

Ron didn’t know what to say, so he just got up to embrace her. She let him, but a moment later moved away and began to pace his cubicle anxiously.

“And look, I’m using words like ‘the other side’ already! She is implying that we’re using Voldemort and the war to prevent criticism against our changes, and I hadn’t thought about that, but I — I think she might be right.”

“No, she isn’t!” Ron replied hotly. How could she think that?

“Maybe not consciously, but —”

“Hermione,” said Ron calmly, grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her and make her look at him. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. Nobody is forcing anyone to interact with Muggles or adopt their customs. They’re not pointing out flaws in the law or legitimate concerns — No, those who oppose you are just privileged bigots who want to continue being privileged, and that’s it,” he stated. He made a pause and looked at her with affection. “Don’t let this affect you. You know you can’t convince everyone, no matter how good what you’re doing is or how noble your intentions are; there will always be people against it.”

“I know,” she said in a low voice.

“This law is a good thing, Hermione. A fantastic change. Yeah, you are ambitious, but there’s nothing wrong in that. You’d never do anything dishonest to achieve success. Anyone who knows you knows that as well.”

She smiled at him.

“Did you talk about this article in your office?”

“Yes. I already had a meeting with Knowton and Percy about this. We’re going to do some damage control, but the discussion was purely technical, just cold facts and communication strategies, and I was getting a bit worked up, so they suggested I took a break, maybe go for a coffee or tea. But what I really needed was your emotional support.”

“Well, you’ve got it. Always. And if I see a beetle, I promise I’ll crush it with my boot. Several times!”

Hermione let out a laugh and then embraced him tightly, something really rare while they were at work.

“I must go now, but thank you,” she said, going onto her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss. “I already feel better. How’s your morning been, by the way?” she asked, glancing at the reports on his desk.

Ron shrugged. “Boring. When I gave Gallory the completed reports, he assigned me another pile.”

She gave him a look of sympathy. “Sorry, Love,” she said tenderly. Then checked her watch. “I’ve really got to go back,” she said, and Ron nodded. “Thanks again.”

Ron gave her another kiss. “I love you, my mental girl.”

Hermione grinned and turned to leave. However, after two steps, she stopped and turned on the spot to face him once more. “I almost forgot — Gallory sent an official request to investigate Goyle’s vault at Gringotts. They’re working on the documents right now and they’ll present them to the goblins before noon.”

Ron nodded. “Okay.”

“See you,” she said, and left.

Ron went back to his reports, though his mind was not in them, but on that fucking article. Seriously, how could people still read Rita Skeeter, or believe a word of what she said?

“Fucking idiots, all of them,” he muttered.

He stared at the stack of reports to revise and leaned against the back of his chair, letting out a deep sigh. His mind wandered, for the umpteenth time that day, to George’s offer. He could see himself working with his brother, devising new products for the shop and trying them, opening new ones, watching the children stare in awe at the shelves and displays …

He was taken out of his daydream by the arrival of an owl. Frowning, as it was odd that he received a letter during work hours, he took the envelope, opened it and read the letter it contained.

It was from Bill, who asked if they could meet for lunch as he had news. Ron scribbled a quick response, indicating the time and the place, and then sent the note back with the owl before grudgingly going back to his reports.

Half an hour before lunch break, he went to the loo and made a little detour to pass in front of Ada’s cubicle and, luckily for him, she was in there.

“Hey,” he said, drawing her attention.

“Hi, Ron.”

“Any progress regarding Goyle?”

She shook her head. “No. He won’t say anything, and no one we’ve asked seems to know that blonde guy. Gallory is going mad, saying that someone must know him and that they’re protecting him. We’re going to present an official request to know the movements of money to and from his vault.”

“Good idea,” he said, feeling a bit bad as he was going to have access to that information much sooner.

“At least, there hasn’t been an attack since last Wednesday. That is a good thing, but it only has convinced Gallory even more of his guilt.”

Ron arched an eyebrow at this. “What about you? Aren’t you convinced?”

She moved her head, tightening her lips. “I think he’s involved in some way, but if he’s being paid, then catching him is just the first step.”

“Yeah.”

“Gallory has even asked for advice from experts of the Department of Mysteries. He’s convinced there must be a way to get the truth out of Goyle without killing him.”

Ron looked at Ada sceptically.

“I know, I know. I don’t believe there is, either. That certainly is a smart move …”

 _Too smart for Goyle, certainly_.

“Anyway, I must get back to this. See you, Ron.”

“Good luck, Ada.”

She nodded and then went back to her parchments, and Ron left. When he returned to his cubicle ten minutes later, Harry was in there waiting for him.

“Harry!”

“Ready for lunch?” Harry asked with a grin.

“You coming?”

“Bill sent me an owl.”

“While you were patrolling?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, Sheila wasn’t very happy about that, but …” He smiled. “So, what do you say? Shall we?”

It was still a bit early, but Ron nodded. The morning had seemed to last a week instead of several hours and he was itching to get out of the office. “Let’s go get Hermione. She might do with some fresh air.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t read the Prophet today?” he asked as they walked towards the Legal Office.

“Nah. Woke up a bit late. Ginny spent half the night shifting in the bed and waking me up.”

“Is she okay?” Ron asked, a bit concerned.

“Yes. The baby was just a bit agitated, it seems. She doesn’t sleep well when he moves too much.”

“Yeah, I imagine,” Ron said, though it was a lie. He didn’t have the slightest idea about what having a living person moving inside you would feel like.

“So — what was in the Prophet, then?” Harry asked. Ron gave him a short summary during their walk.

“Rita Skeeter …” said Harry, shaking his head. “When will we be free of that cow?”

“No idea, but I would happily hex her right now,” Ron said as they reached the Legal Office and moved towards Hermione’s office. Milton Hayes, her assistant, was looking for something in a book when they approached him.

“Is Hermione available?” Ron asked him.

“Mr Wesley, Mr Potter,” he greeted them. “Yes, she is. Though she has been rather busy this morning.”

“I know,” said Ron, and moved towards the door. He knocked once before opening it. “Hey, Hermione.”

Hermione, who was furiously writing in a parchment, looked up.

“Ron. What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could do with a break and some lunch. Harry’s here as well.”

“Hi, Hermione!”

Hermione looked down at the parchment and then at her watch. “Okay, give me five minutes.”

Ron nodded and closed the door. He and Harry waited for her outside her office, chit-chatting with Milton, until (ten minutes later, not five) she walked out, putting her cloak on.

“Ready,” she told them. “I’ve got just forty-five minutes, though.”

“Okay,” said Ron, as the three of them walked towards the lifts.

“Bill is joining us,” Ron told her. “He’s got information about Goyle’s vault.”

“Good.”

“Ron’s told me about Skeeter’s article, Hermione,” Harry told her. “That woman is a disgrace, seriously. Ignore her.”

“More like a menace,” Hermione corrected him, frowning. “And I expected some backslash about my private life, but a political editorial … I wonder if someone is paying her to write against the law.”

“I imagine many purebloods would be capable of doing to that,” said Ron.

“Yes,” nodded Hermione. “I wouldn’t put that past Isolda Selwyn. She’s championing the opposition to the law and when I saw her today she looked rather smug.”

“She and her group are still in minority,” said Ron, and Harry nodded.

“For now,” added Hermione as they exited the lift in the Atrium.

Less than five minutes later, they were sitting at a Muggle Italian restaurant, not far from the Ministry but not too close, as Ron didn’t want any other Ministry official listening to them. Bill was already there, waiting for them.

“So — what did you find?” Harry asked eagerly once they had their orders.

“Well, it was really Fleur which found this, but she couldn’t come.” Bill looked at them with a grave expression. “It doesn’t look good,” he commented as he extracted a piece of parchment from a pocket.

“No?” asked Ron.

“For starters, the Goyles as a family have not been rich for a long time, at least from the point of view of the typical pureblood family. Fleur looked at the registry of the last ten years, and they didn’t have any real income until the year of the war.”

“When Garrick Goyle was Head of the Auror Office,” said Ron.

“But still, they spent more as well. And, after the war, the Ministry presented a demand and the goblins had to give back every galleon Goyle received during that time. Then it seems Goyle son spent a lot of money in solicitors to avoid going to Azkaban for his actions during that year. That left him with just nine thousand galleons.”

“That’s a good amount of money,” commented Ron.

“If you’ve got a job, yes. But Goyle hasn’t have a source of income since then. A month ago, he had barely one thousand galleons left.”

“But now he’s got more, hasn’t he?” asked Hermione knowingly.

“Yes. Three deposits of two hundred and fifty galleons each this month. On the fifth, the nineth and twelfth.”

“The days after every attack,” said Harry. “Shit.”

Bill nodded, putting the parchment back into his pocket.

“It seems Gallory was right, then,” said Ron. “Goyle is guilty.”

“Goyle is _involved_ ,” replied Harry, “but he’s not the one behind this. Gallory is just focusing on him and forgetting about the reasons for the attacks.”

“The Ministry has presented an official request to get this information,” Bill told him. “They’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Hopefully, they’ll focus on investigate who’s paying him, but we can’t wait.” Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. “You need to get something from your Aunt Muriel,” he told them. “We need to understand what’s happening before anyone else is attacked.”

“Well, if you’re so eager, you can come with us,” suggested Ron, smiling.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Not _that_ eager, Mate. Not that eager.”

— o —

In the afternoon, after finishing work, Ron went to Hermione’s office for the second time that day. When he got there, she was still in a meeting with Knowton, so he had to wait for almost thirty minutes.

“Sorry for the delay,” Hermione said as she put on her cloak and took her bag. “That damned article is causing a lot of problems.”

“Is it?”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it, I’ve had enough. Let’s go see you aunt.”

“I’d rather deal with Skeeter,” muttered Ron as they walked back to the lifts.

After exiting the Ministry, they Apparated in front of Muriel’s place in Sussex. Though it wasn’t as grand as Malfoy Manor, it was certainly large, with three floors and an impressive garden surrounded by a stone wall.

“Wow,” said Hermione, who had never been there.

“Yeah, not bad,” said Ron as they walked towards the gates. “But a bit excessive for my liking.”

One of the large, wooden gates had a face carved on it that spoke to them when they got close enough. “Say your names, please.”

“Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger,” said Ron.

“Wait a moment.”

Five seconds later, the doors opened, revealing the front garden. Ron and Hermione walked along a paved road that went from the gates to the main door of the house, passing between two identical fountains. Before they could reach the door, though, it opened and a young elf appeared on the doorstep.

“Mistress is waiting for Mister and Miss in the parlour,” he said.

“Thank you, Bertie.”

The elf made a slight reverence and made a gesture inviting them in. They found themselves at the start of a high and wide hallway that ended on the other side of the house, where there was a tall window that allowed lots of light to enter and opened to the back garden. The walls of the hallway were decorated with portraits showing past members of the Prewett family who looked curiously at them, and even a few statues, which gave them the impression of being in a museum instead of in a house.

“Follow me, please,” Bertie told them, and guided them to a double door on the right. Ron and Hermione crossed it and walked into the parlour, a large room with a fireplace on the wall to their left, and which was overstuffed with couches, armchairs, tables and cabinets. The wall in front of them was littered with shelves containing books, photographs and other knickknacks, and the one to their right had three large windows facing the front garden.

Aunt Muriel was sitting regally on the biggest armchair of the room — a piece of furniture that must be older than her and which was situated near the fire — with her feet resting comfortably on a footstool. And though she was sitting and was one hundred and fourteen years old, she looked sharp, alert and energetic as a teenager.

“Ronald, what a surprise!” she exclaimed the moment they entered, with her bright eyes moving from one to another, studying them intently. “I had started to believe you had forgotten about your poor, old aunt. It’s almost a miracle you remembered where I live. Or did your mother tell you?”

“I remember, Aunt Muriel, I’m not an idiot,” said Ron patiently.

“I hope not, as you’re an Auror. There have already been plenty of idiots working in the Ministry, many of them as Aurors. There still are, in fact, and we don’t need more, especially from my own family.” She looked at the elf. “Bertie, offer my nephew and his fiancé something to drink.”

“What may I offers you?” he asked very politely.

“Tea, please, Bertie,” said Hermione pleasantly, giving him a smile.

“The same,” said Ron. “With two spoonfuls of sugar.”

The elf nodded and turned to look at Muriel. “Does Mistress want anything?”

“A glass of my favourite brandy, Bertie. Let’s celebrate that one of my nephews has decided to finally visit me before my funeral.”

 _Fucking hell_ , Ron groaned inwardly.

“Of course, Mistress,” Bertie said, and then Disapparated.

“Come on, sit down,” said Aunt Muriel, waving towards the couch in front of her. “Don’t just stay standing in there like two idiots.”

Hermione and Ron did as told.

“So, what brings you two here?” She asked. But, before either of them could answer, she looked at Hermione. “Dear, I’ve heard you’re putting the Ministry upside down!” she exclaimed happily. “And giving nightmares and heart strokes to some wizards and witches from old families, I must say,” she added, and let out a gleeful cackle. “I know a couple of old hags that had some mean words to say about you, believe me! Well, I imagine today they must be happy, if they read the article Rita Skeeter published on the _Prophet_. You did read it, didn’t you, dear?” she asked, with more curiosity than concern.

“Yes, I did,” said Hermione, maintaining the composure, though she had stiffened a bit.

“Aunt Muriel, can we not mention that woman?” intervened Ron. “Everything she says is a pile of shit and she causes enough trouble without having to heard her fucking name more than necessary.”

Muriel directed a scornful look at him. “I see you still insist on using that foul language, Ronald. Just like all your siblings, Ginevra included. With the sole exception of Percy, of course. He’s such a well-mannered boy! A bit of a pompous idiot in other areas, but still.” She made a pause before going back to the subject they were discussing. “I know you can’t believe everything you read, dear, but you must admit she’s got talent and a wicked imagination! The things she comes up with!” she exclaimed in wonder, as if Skeeter was a child who had done some innocent mischief instead a grown-up woman ruining other people’s reputations.

Hermione scoffed. “Yes, amazing,” she whispered with a small mouth, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Muriel, however, heard her and smiled. “Yes, yes, I imagine you don’t see it the same way. It’s the prize for being in the spotlight, dear. But let me tell you that I’m proud you’re engaged to Ronald. A intelligent and determined woman, you are,” she said approvingly. “You may even manage to clean that foul mouth of his.”

At this, Ron frowned, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

“You don’t know how much I enjoy when I hear some of my pureblood acquaintances to speak ill of you and I say you’re going to be my future great-great-niece-in-law,” continued Muriel. “You should see their faces!” she exclaimed, and let out another of those unpleasant cackles. Ron tried not to grimace at the sound. Fuck, couldn’t they go to the point already so they could leave?

Hermione seemed to think the same and took the invitation from her bag at the same time that Bertie came back with their beverages.

“Anyway, Aunt Muriel … we came here because we wanted to give you this,” she said, and used her wand to levitate the envelope to the old witch while Bertie put the two mugs in front of them and Muriel’s glass on a little table next to the armchair where she was sitting. “It’s the invitation to our wedding.”

“Ah, at least!” she said, opening it. “Ronald, I was wondering if you were going to live with your girlfriend out of wedlock for ever, like a savage. But then your mother told me you had got engaged. But that was weeks ago so I was starting to think you had forgotten to invite me!”

“I’d never forget you, Aunt,” said Ron with complete sincerity. _Even if I wanted to_.

“It’s in July,” Muriel said, reading the invitation. “Good, good. I hate weddings in the autumn or winter. Too cold for my old joints and bones.”

“You’ll come, then,” said Ron, trying not to show that he was still hoping for a miracle and she would tell them that, _unfortunately_ , she couldn’t attend.

“Of course I’ll go! At my age, you don’t pass an opportunity to celebrate with your family, Ronald. Every day can be the last one.”

Ron looked at her sceptically. She seemed healthy enough to survive them all.

“This deserves a toast,” said Aunt Muriel. She grabbed her glass firmly and took a long gulp, licking her lips and clicking her tongue noisily with relish. “Ah, this is fantastic!”

Ron took a sip of his own tea to avoid making a comment, and Hermione did the same.

“Well, tell me then — how is everyone? How’s Ginevra doing with her pregnancy? I should visit her one day, give her some advice on how to be a proper mother. At least she isn’t playing that damned sport while pregnant! I’d wouldn’t have put it past her!”

Ron took another sip to avoid the temptation to chuckle. A single, childless woman telling Ginny how to be a mother? Oh, Ron would pay to see the expression on his sister’s face!

In any case, it was time to steer the conversation to where they needed it, or they would end up staying for dinner.

“Ginny and Harry are doing fine,” he said. “In fact, Harry and I are assigned to a curious case.”

“Ah, the one about those mysterious attacks?” she asked, eyeing Ron with morbid interest.

“Yeah, that one.”

“And you know who did it? Because I’m curious as to why anyone would attack Isabelle Nott — or Fawley. I met her a few years ago and I’ve never seen a duller woman, or less remarkable. The imagine the only reason Alfred Fawley married her is because of her parentage, of course, as she’s a pureblood.”

“We’re still investigating,” said Ron vaguely. “You know the Notts well?”

“Well, we do not move, exactly, in the same circles, as you can imagine, Ronald. But yes, I know them quite well.”

“If they had some secret, you’d know about it? Maybe a rumour?”

At this, Muriel’s face lit up with glee. “Ah, up for a bit of gossip, are you? Well, if something is a secret, I wouldn’t know, of course …” she stated, though Ron had the impression she was only making herself look more important. “However, there are always rumours, Ronald. There are just a few old families, after all, all of them interrelated, and people talk. In more than a hundred years, I’ve heard quite a few things, I can assure you. You want to know some dirty secret?”

“They have dirty secrets, then?” asked Hermione.

“Oh, dear, every family has dirty secrets!” she exclaimed with joy. “Every one of them, my own included.” She looked at Ron. “And the Weasleys, of course. Despite being labelled as Blood Traitors, Ronald, not all Weasleys were against pureblood supremacy, did you know that?” At Ron’s disbelieving expression, she added, “You could ask your father about his great uncle Sarmonius …”

“Who?” asked Ron, who had never heard that name before.

“Ah, never heard about him, eh? Well, there’s a lazy elf in every bunch, dear! Sarmonius married Locasta Selwyn, and there were rumours about them related to a couple of Muggle killings in Gloucester. Nothing could be proven, though, and the culprits were never caught, so — who knows? However, it is true that the rest of his family never talked to them again. Whether that was because of their actions of simply due to his views, one can only speculate. That happened a very long time ago.”

“That can’t be,” protested Ron, refusing to believe such a story.

Muriel stared at him, smirking. “You thought all was gold and shiny in your family, eh, Ronald? Ah, youngsters!” she exclaimed in an exaggerated tone, as if feeling sorry for him for being so naive. “When you’ve lived for as long as I have, my dear boy, you learn that the human soul is a pit full of evil, and even those that seem purer are tainted. Now, you tell me you’re interested in the Notts? Why?”

Ron didn’t answer, still a bit distraught for what she had said, so Hermione took over. “Yes. As you say, Isabelle Fawley was attacked, and some of the other victims might be related to them, though it’s not clear how. We hoped you might now something about their children … Maybe something related to any squibs born in the family …” she explained vaguely. “Anything strange that might have happened around fifty years ago.”

“Oh, ho ho ho,” Muriel cackled in delight. “Well, dear, there are enough rumours and stories concerning the Notts to write quite a long book! And well, you can imagine that giving birth to squibs is not something a pureblood fanatic family like the Notts would speak openly about. But, of course, if you say about fifty years ago …”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. “Around 1948.”

“That’s fairly precise,” said Muriel, eyeing him suspiciously.

Ron just shrugged.

“Well, by what you’ve told me, you want to know about Anticus, don’t you?”

“Yes,” nodded Hermione.

“Well, surely you both know that Anticus Nott was one of the first supporters of He Who Must Not Be Named. Of course, it was never proved he was a Death Eater when He showed his true face and the killings began, but, before the war started, he was a firm defender of his views about pureblood supremacy and supported him publicly.” She made a little pause a took a sip of her brandy, smacking her lips afterwards. “Anticus finished Hogwarts around 1944, or 1945, if I remember well, and married Martha Greengrass right afterwards. Beautiful girl, she was, like all the Greengrass women. But, also like most members of that family, extremely frail. There were rumours that she was unable to have children, that it would be too much for her. Yet, just a couple years after the wedding, she ended up pregnant. It was a short-lived joy, though, as the child died when it was just a few months old.”

“Died?” asked Hermione, frowning.

“Yes,” nodded Muriel. “A rather mysterious death, you see. My good friend Naressa, who worked at St Mungo’s, told me that the child hadn’t been attended at the hospital. Then the Notts practically disappeared from public life for a year, saying they were devastated by their loss. Of course, the rumours started almost immediately. Some said that the child was practically a monster. Others, that Martha had been unfaithful and the child was not Anticus’s. The most popular, though, suggested that it was a squib, and how could the ancient, pureblood Nott family produce a squib? Many people concluded that, if that was really the case, the Notts couldn’t allow that to be known, and so the logical conclusion was that they had killed it. Of course, it made sense years later, when he became suspicious of being a Death Eater. What would You-Know-Who say about one of his minions fathering a line of Muggles?”

Hermione stared at Muriel, horrified. “People really believed they had killed their own child just for being a squib? They found it _logical!_?”

“People believe things even more horrible than that, and sometimes they are true,” replied Muriel disdainfully. “The Notts were one of the last pureblood families, and Anticus was very proud of that. A squib child would have destroyed his reputation. Other purebloods would start to believe his magic was weak, tainted. Or that they weren’t really purebloods.”

“But — but, the baby _could_ still be magical! I mean, magic may not reveal itself until the kid is seven years old!”

“Well, dear, surely an intelligent witch like you knows there are ways to determine if a person has magic or not. Not very respectable, certainly, but there are.”

Hermione stared at her, open-mouthed.

“It must be true, Hermione,” intervened Ron, and she turned her face to look at him. “Remember the Scroll of Names? Every magical child appears in there, after its birthday.”

“But — but that scroll was enchanted by the four most powerful wizards and witches of the Middle Ages!”

“And that’s why those other methods to prove a child is truly magical or a squib are not something decent people talk about,” stated Muriel. “After everything you’ve seen, dear, you should know the world is full of terrible things.”

“But — but — killing _them_? _Their own children?”_

Muriel let out a chuckle of contempt. “Do you know how many wizards and witches have been shunned by their families, parents included, for marrying Muggles or just befriending them? You think no one killed a relative during the war? My own nephews, Fabian and Gideon, Ronald’s uncles, were killed by Dolohov, who was a cousin of them. And it wasn’t the only case.”

“Like Bellatrix trying to kill Tonks,” added Ron, remembering that night when he had flown with the Auror towards this very same place. Bellatrix had put all her will and power to the task of finishing off Tonks, who was her niece.

“But Bellatrix was completely deranged, a crazy bitch,” spat Hermione.

“And you think she was the only one?” laughed Muriel. “You must understand, dear, that for some people, being pureblood meant everything. _Everything_. I don’t know if that child of the Notts was a squib, or if he really killed her,” she continued, surprising Ron. She usually was eager to believe the worst of anyone. “But it wouldn’t have surprised me at all. That wasn’t the only rumour about that family, you know. A few years after losing that child, they had another. Surprisingly, Martha Greengrass ended up having three kids: Calista, Amadeus and — how was the other one called? The one who is in prison for being a Death Eater?”

“Callum,” answered Hermione.

“Yes, Callum. Well, giving birth to four children was quite a feat for a Greengrass woman. In fact, her last pregnancy left her weak and ill. She never recovered from it and died about a decade later.” She took another gulp and finished her drink. “Bertie!” she called.

At once, the elf Apparated right in front of her.

“Mistress called for Bertie?”

“Bring me another glass of brandy, please. Do you want anything else?” she asked, addressing Ron and Hermione.

“No, thanks,” said Hermione.

“Me neither,” added Ron.

Bertie clicked his fingers and, at once, Muriel’s glass refilled. She took another sip, and the elf vanished.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the rumour about Anticus and Martha’s first child was not the only one. Many years later, there was a rumour that Calista had got involved with a Muggle! Believe me, that caused quite the talk! Of course, Anticus was quick to deny it, saying those were rumours spread by Muggleborns, blood traitors and other ‘enemies of the Wizarding world.’ But the truth is that, after that, Calista, who until then had been a lively girl, disappeared from public life. That of course only fuelled the rumours, some of them saying that she had got pregnant. She appeared at a party a few months later, though, and it was obvious she wasn’t pregnant at all, but everyone said that she was unrecognisable. She looked depressed and withdrawn and had barely interacted with anyone outside her family. His father explained that that was because such outrageous rumours had affected her badly, but well, other people had other theories,” finished Muriel.

“Like what?” asked Ron.

“Like that her father had forced her to abort,” Muriel answered, and Hermione let out a gasp of horror. “Others remembered the rumours about Anticus’s first-born and speculated that maybe she had given birth, but the child had been killed as well. By then You-Know-Who had revealed his true colours so it was plausible that one of the rumoured Death Eaters would kill a baby tainting the purity of his family,” she said, and then shrugged. “Who knows? The truth is that Calista was rarely seen after that, and she never married. Maybe she didn’t want to, or maybe wizards from families that the Notts could consider as acceptable suitors didn’t want to sull themselves by marrying someone who had been with a Muggle.”

“That’s — that’s horrible!” exclaimed Hermione.

“I told you, child, the world is full of dreadful things. Don’t delude yourself thinking otherwise.”

“But forcing your own daughter to abort — or — or killing the child …”

“I’ll repeat it again: for some wizards and witches, being pureblood, keeping the supposed purity of their bloodline is everything. Have you heard about the _Pureblood Directory_?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ron and Hermione responded at the same time.

“The true author was never revealed, but, at the time, everyone was sure it had been written by Cantankerus Nott. It certainly would explain why the Weasleys appeared as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“Why?” asked Ron. He had heard, of course, about that inglorious list of the ‘only’ twenty-eight families that were still pureblood by the time it was written. Of course, almost everyone knew the list was biased, but, certainly, he had never understood why the Weasleys were among them.

“Well, Cantankerus was friends with Sarmonius, you know. Locasta Selwyn was a cousin of the Notts and rather close to Cantankerus. He might have included the Weasleys due that that friendship. Certainly, he wasn’t friendly with any other Weasley, and other pureblood families with ‘better’ reputation than the Weasleys did not made the list.”

“Fuck,” said Ron, unable to restrain himself.

“That mouth, Ronald!” protested Muriel, glaring at him. “Anyway, you see what I mean? The Notts were so proud of their bloodline, and, though it was never confirmed, the fact that a Nott had been the author of the Directory made them believe they were the _guardians_ of the ‘true essence’ of the Wizarding world or some nonsense like that.”

“So you’re telling us they supposedly did all these horrible things because Anticus’s father wrote a stupid list?” asked Hermione, flabbergasted.

Muriel chuckled. “Cantankerus was not Anticus’s father, child,” she replied. “He never married, in fact. They said he was a bit insane, and well, by the few occasions I saw him, I’d very much affirm the same. No, Anticus was the son of Cantankerus’s younger brother, Malbard, he —” she said, but stopped when both Ron and Hermione gasped audibly.

“What?” she asked, her eyes moving from one to the other.

“No, n-nothing,” said Hermione quickly. “It’s just, that name, Malbard … You’re sure, completely sure, that was Anticus’s father’s name?”

Muriel frowned at her. “Of course I am. I may be old, but I’m far from senile. My memory is as good as always, I can assure you that.” She studied them for a bit, her eyes lit up with suspicion. “What do you know? What does that name mean to you? After everything I told you, it would only be polite to pay me back.”

“When the case is over, we’ll tell you, I promise,” said Ron, mentally adding, _Maybe_. “I can’t say anything else for now.”

“Mmmh,” said Muriel grumpily. “You’re not pulling one on me, are you, Ronald?”

“Of course not, Aunt,” said Ron with all the seriousness he could muster. “Thank you for your time. Now we need to get going.”

“Yes,” nodded Hermione, getting to her feet. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

Muriel just observed them shrewdly. “In a hurry, are you? You’d better tell me everything soon!”

“We’ll do,” promised Ron. “Can we use your fireplace?”

“You may,” said Muriel, still looking a bit displeased about the lack of response to her questions.

“Thank you, Aunt Muriel. I’ll give Mum your love.”

Muriel nodded. Ron and Hermione took some Floo powder and, after shouting ‘Row House!’ they vanished.

“Well, what do you think?” Ron asked Hermione as soon as they stepped out of their fireplace.

“Well, most of what she told us are rumours and half-truths, but, given what we already know, I think I understand how the victims are related,” Hermione said as she used her wand to clean the sooth of their clothes. She sat on the couch and looked at him, who returned her gaze.

“The three of them seem to be Anticus’s grandchildren,” said Ron.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. Robert Notte was a squib, though he was not killed like the rumours said. Instead, they abandoned him at St Michael’s orphanage. The manager told you it was a rainy night, so I imagine they Apparated inside and left him in the hall. Then, years later, Calista Nott got involved with a Muggle and ended up pregnant. They hid her during the pregnancy, and, after giving birth, they gave the baby up for adoption,” she summarised.

“That doesn’t explain what the Smiths told us, though,” said Ron. “I mean, Robert Notte’s case is easy, and it makes sense the way you explained it, but John Malbard … William Smith told us he was the son of his sister, a lawyer.”

“I know,” agreed Hermione, thoughtful. “I don’t get it, either, but the fact that he’s named Malbard … It seems that despite everything, the Notts did want the children to keep something from the family they had come from: a slightly different surname for Robert, and Anticus’s father’s name in the case of John.”

“But why not left him in an orphanage like they did with Robert?” asked Ron. “Unless …” he trailed off.

“Unless — ?” inquired Hermione.

“Unless they made a mistake,” suggested Ron. Hermione looked at him, not understanding. “The attackers, I mean. What if they thought John Malbard was Calista’s son but he wasn’t?”

“Mmmh,” said Hermione, doubtful. “He is a wizard, and, I can’t be sure, but I’d say whoever is behind this knows too much to make such a mistake.”

Ron nodded slowly. “We should tell Harry,” he suggested, getting up.

Hermione frowned, and glanced at the clock. “Ron, it’s almost dinnertime.”

He smiled at her. “Good, we’ll eat without having to prepare anything.”

“Ron!”

Ron just shrugged. “Come on, Love. Ginny cooks better than any of us.”

Hermione shook her head, but got up as well. They moved to the fireplace and travelled to Harry and Ginny’s house.

“It smells good,” said Ron as he stepped out. Ginny, who was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine, looked up.

“Hi,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“How rude,” Ron teased. “Can a brother come to have dinner with his sister and best friend?”

“Ron!” yelled Hermione, before looking at her sister-in-law. “Don’t listen to him, Ginny. We came because we wanted to talk to Harry. Isn’t he at home?”

“I’m right here,” said Harry, opening the door to the backyard and stepping into the house. “What happened?” he asked, closing it behind him and taking off his cloak.

“We wanted to tell you what we heard from Aunt Muriel,” responded Hermione.

“So you went to see her, then?” asked Ginny, smirking at Ron. “Nice visit, right?”

“Wonderful,” replied Ron dryly. “In any case, she told us pretty interesting things.”

“Did she?” asked Harry, very interested. “Tell me. Do you want a butterbeer or something?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. Hermione and Ginny shook their heads, so Harry summoned two butterbeers, and, as they drank, Hermione and Ron relayed everything they had heard and what they had guessed. When they finished, Harry was so excited he got up and began pacing the living room.

“Now it makes sense! I think it exactly like you said, the three victims are Notts! And whoever is doing this, knows about this secret and is targeting them!”

“But it doesn’t explain why,” said Ron. “I mean, if they only attacked the Muggleborn and Muggle descendants, they could be pureblood fanatics. But why attack Isabelle Fawley? In any case, they should attack Calista, she was the one who ‘tainted’ the family tree. And it still doesn’t explain the fact that John Malbard’s mother was a Muggle. We thought about the father, but if he’s the son of Calista … It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, that is worth investigating,” agreed Harry, “but it all fits.”

“Don’t get so carried away, Harry,” intervened Hermione. “Goyle’s part in this is still a mystery. I mean, do you think he knew about this? He comes from a pureblood family, and his father was a Death Eater, but —”

“Goyle’s got nothing to do with this,” stated Harry. “He might be involved in some way, but I don’t think he knows anything about this. The Notts were trying to protect their image, the last people they would tell about this would be other pureblood fanatics like them. For them it was a shame, that’s why they got rid of the children. No, this is some sort of revenge.”

“Revenge?” asked Ron, frowning. “How come?”

“Think about it: the person behind this could be going after known members of the Nott family. But by doing this, they’re sending a message: I know about your secrets and —” Harry stopped for a moment, mouth open wide, as if struck by a lightning bolt.

“Harry?” asked Ginny.

“That’s it,” he muttered to himself. “That’s it. Those marks on the victim’s foreheads … that’s a message as well, a message for the Notts. They’re not only threatening them, they’re telling them who is behind the attacks without revealing their identities to us.”

“But the Notts didn’t seem to know anything. That’s what Ada told me,” said Ron. But then he quickly found a counterargument. “But, of course, if the person behind this know all their secrets, they wouldn’t want the Aurors to get involved.”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry. “And the attacker knows that. They think the Notts will want to keep this between them.”

“So you think there’ll be more attacks?”

“Most surely,” said Harry. “Either they keep attacking, or the Notts retaliate. We should talk to them again, you and me,” he added, looking at Ron.

“Okay,” agreed Ron. “It’s worth a shot.” He looked at Ginny. “And now — what’s for dinner?”

“RON!”

Harry laughed. “There’s shepherd’s pie,” he responded.

“No, Harry, you didn’t count on us, we’re not going —” started Hermione.

Harry laughed again, interrupting her. “Hermione, don’t worry. My dear wife seems to be channelling Molly lately. She made enough for a battalion.”

“Harry Potter!” yelled Ginny. “If you don’t like it, you can make your own meals from now on!”

“I wasn’t complaining, Love,” he said with an apologetic smile. He got closer to her and put a kiss on the top of her head. “On the contrary, I am delighted. Too much, in fact!”

Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione, as if saying, ‘Men!’ Hermione laughed. “Are you staying, then? As my prat of a husband said, I made more than enough.”

“I’ll set the table,” declared Ron, marching towards the kitchen, while, behind him, Hermione shook her head.

* * *

A couple of hours later, back at their house, Ron was watching, though not really seeing, Hermione get ready for bed. He was already under the covers in just his boxers, leaning against the headboard.

He was thinking about what George had told him yesterday, and how he had barely forgotten about it the whole day, except for the time while they had spent at Muriel’s and at Harry and Ginny’s. He was debating with himself about telling Hermione or not. He felt bad for not sharing this with her, but, on the other side, he didn’t want to worry her about something he had not really decided about, especially given how worried she was with her law.

And, if he was really sincere, he feared knowing what she would think about marrying a shop clerk instead of an Auror.

“What are you thinking about? The case?” Hermione asked, putting the sheets over her.

“No. It’s nothing,” he lied.

“Ron, I’m wearing this and you didn’t ogle me,” she replied, lowering the sheet and blankets a bit to reveal the black lace nightdress that she was wearing and which barely reached the middle of her thighs. The V-neck was really low as well, so when she bent over, she always gave him a wonderful view of her tits. It looked amazing on her and it was a favourite of his.

“Sorry,” he said, forcing a smirk onto his face as he reached to grope a breast.

“ _Ron_. What’s up?”

Ron moved his hands to his lap and looked down for a moment, watching himself play with a loose thread of his boxers. “George offered me a job,” he blurted out before he knew he was going to say anything. He dared to look at her.

“A job?” she asked.

“Well, not exactly a job. To be partners. Now both shops are running and successful he wants to expand internationally, needs a new partner, and he thought about me.”

Hermione didn’t say anything for a moment, and then asked shrewdly, “and he just offered that to you out of the blue?”

“Well, I told him I wasn’t feeling very happy in my job lately.”

“But that’s just because of Gallory. When Robards come back —”

“No,” he denied, interrupting her. “No, it goes longer. The current situation has just made me realise it. At first it was thrilling and fulfilling. But lately is just paperwork and meaningless cases and — well, I dunno,” he said, shrugging, looking down once more.

Hermione made another pause, just looking at him and making him more nervous.

“And what do you want to do, then?” she asked at last.

He shrugged again. “I haven’t decided yet. Well, I wasn’t going to do anything without telling you, of course, but I still don’t know.”

“Why hadn’t you told me?” she asked, and he noticed she sounded a bit hurt.

“As I said, I still don’t know what I want, Hermione. I didn’t want to worry you about this when I don’t know what I want.”

“Would you like that? To work with George?” she asked cautiously.

Ron shrugged once more. “Well, I loved when I worked with him after the war, despite everything. It would be very different now, of course. For the better, I suppose, as we have healed from losing Fred. But …” he trailed off.

“But — what?”

Ron looked at her and gulped. “I am an Auror now. People is impressed by that. It’s something a future Head of the department or Minister for Magic can tell people. But saying that your husband is a shop clerk, well …” he trailed, finally voicing his fears, and looked down at the loose thread once more to avoid her eyes. He liked to think that he had put all his insecurities behind him, and, for the most part, he had. He felt sure in his relationship with Hermione and in his job. He no longer felt undeserving of her, but, what if he went to work with George and she saw it as silly or not serious enough? Right now their jobs intertwined frequently — a bit less now that she was so focused on legislation, but still. What would mean for their relationship if he went to work elsewhere?

Hermione just observed him for a bit, and then moved one hand to his face, gently turning it so he was looking back at her.

“Ron,” she said very softly. “For starters, you wouldn’t be a shop clerk, but a businessman managing one of the most successful wizarding companies created in the last fifty years. And, even if you really worked as a shop clerk, I wouldn’t mind, or be embarrassed by it. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. If you aren’t happy as an Auror, then do another thing, be that working with George or something else. What would really upset me is you being unhappy. I’m not with you because I can brag about you, I’m with you because I love you and you make me happy. But to make me happy, you must be happy as well, so don’t let that affect your decision. Do what you want, Ron, because I will always love you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, you silly man,” she said, smiling and then kissed him softly.

“Merlin, Hermione, I love you so fucking much,” he told her.

Hermione kissed him again, and Ron deepened the kiss, moving his hand to her slim waist and caressing her over the nightdress. However, before long, his hands moved down, over her hip, until he reached the bare skin of her thigh. Then he moved back up, but under the fabric, caressing her leg until he touched her bare ass, which he squeezed.

Hermione moaned into his mouth and then moved her own hand to his chest, stroking his pecs briefly before sliding lower until she was cupping his growing bulge. Once her hand began to fondle it, his cock hardened completely.

“Hermione …” he muttered.

“Mmmh, Ron …”

He pulled on her lower lip and then began to kiss her along her jaw. She tilted her head to the side and he left a trail of kisses down her neck and over her exposed cleavage. With another squeeze to her ass, he lifted his face to look up at her. She was staring down at him, her eyes dark with desire, and Ron grinned lasciviously. Holding her gaze, he crept down the bed, pushing the blankets off them, until he was between her open legs. Hermione shifted a bit so she was comfortably lying on her back and, biting her bottom lip sensually, used her hands to pull the nightdress up, revealing her already wet pussy to him.

Ron looked at it, his mouth watering and his cock throbbing. Putting his hands on her thighs, he caressed her slowly before lowering his head to eat her out.

The moment his tongue made contact with her folds, she whimpered and bucked her hips a bit. Ron smiled and gave her a long lick, relishing her taste and smell, before sucking on her clit a couple of times. Hermione moaned and she licked her again, teasingly, before pushing his tongue in her as deep as he could. He could almost feel her juices dripping off her and loved it.

“Oh, Ron, yes … Eat me out. Eat my cunt.”

Ron moved his tongue around for a while, sliding his hands under her ass to hold her against his face, and then moved back to her clit, which he began to suck with fervour.

Hermione began to moan louder. As he worked, he saw her lower the straps of the nightdress, baring her tits to her hands. Despite how many times Ron had watched her doing this, it always drove him mad, so, with a grunt, he delved back into her pussy and began to eat her like a starved man, while finger-fucking her with two fingers. Hermione arched her back and moaned loudly, playing with her breasts as she tried to fuck his face and hand.

Ron felt in heaven down there. When he did this, it was as if Hermione became the whole universe. The only real taste was that of her juices; the only real smell was that of her pussy; the only real tact was that of her skin; the only image was of her squirming under and around him; and the only sounds were her constant moans.

No worries, no job, no case, no boss. Just him and Hermione and their pleasure-ridden bodies.

Sucking hard on her clit, he shoved another finger between her butt cheeks and into her asshole, and she exploded, her body convulsing violently while she screamed his name.

“Oh, gods, Ron …” she moaned once she regained some control of her body. Ron, with a grin on his wet face, moved up her body, kissing her skin as he went. He paused to suck on her tits for a bit and then just watched her face, his head propped on his left arm.

“Liked that, did you?”

“Mmmh,” she moaned contentedly before opening her eyes to look at him. “Now it’s your turn. Do you want to have your cock sucked?” she asked sultrily and lovingly, caressing his face with her fingers. She scooped some of her own juices and moved the fingers to her mouth, tasting herself.

Ron groaned. “I want to fuck you,” he declared as calmly as he could, though he was dying to bury his aching cock in her.

Hermione’s mouth curved into a smile. Then, she bit her bottom lip seductively and, giving him a look of pure lust, she shifted on the bed so she was lying on her side, her back to him, though she was still looking at him. Ron looked down, his eyes roaming over her body. She must have noticed his gaze because she wiggled her hips and used her hands to lift her nightdress and bare her ass to him before arching her back, offering herself to him.

“Fuck …” he muttered, moving his hands over her thighs and bum reverently.

Hermione smiled at him, and moved her hand to his boxers. After giving his bulge a squeeze, she lowered the front, taking his cock out and rubbing it. Then she pressed herself against him, moving the tip between her cheeks.

“Fuck me, Ron.”

Hastily, Ron lowered his boxers so his cock was completely free, then grabbed her leg and raised it, thrusting against her ass. Hermione, as eager as him, bend her body a little, slid her hand between her open legs, grabbed his cock and put it against her hole.

“Now.”

“Fuck!” he groaned as he thrust, burying his aching prick into her eager, perfect pussy. “Merlin, you feel so fucking good …”

“Mmmh, Ron … I love having you inside me, you stretch me so deliciously … Come on, move. Fuck me.”

Ron slid his left arm under her and used it to bring her closer to him, his hand grasping her left breast. He kept his other hand on her hip for leverage, moving it from time to time to squeeze her ass while he fucked her with slow, deep strokes.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, the two of them enjoying it immensely. However, eventually, their need grew, making that slow pace unbearable. Ron began to thrust faster and harder, and, as their moans and groans increase in volume and the bed started to shake under their combined movements, she slid one hand down her belly and to her cunt, opening her legs even more to touch herself

“Fuck, yeah, touch that pussy for me, Hermione. Rub your little clit while I fuck you! Oh, Merling, you’re so tight …”

“Gods, Ron, this is maddening. Fuck me faster and harder, please. I want it so badly!”

“You do, do you?” he asked harshly, slamming hard into her. Doing it this way, however, having to slid over the bed with each move was preventing him from moving as hard as he wanted, so he leaned a bit over her, turning her so she was almost lying on her stomach and bending her upper leg up. It made it harder for her to touch her clit, but, as Ron was now standing partially over her, it allowed him to fuck her with much more power. “Fuck, yeah, that’s it! Shit, your pussy is perfect! Perfect! Oh, fuck!”

Hermione arched her back, squirming under his unmerciful fucking and chanting “oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” non-stop.

“Yeah, fuck!” said Ron through gritted teeth. “I’ll fuck you forever, Hermione. You’re about to cum, uh? Tell me!”

“Oh, Ron, yes! Yes! Just don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

“Shit, you’re so wet! I think I could switch my cock to your tight asshole and you’d cum equally hard! Do you want me to, Hermione?” he asked, breathing heavily. “I’m in the perfecto position to drill your ass!”

Hermione moaned louder, as if really wanting that, but, at the same time, clenched her inner muscles and pressed her thighs together, trapping him. “This cock is not leaving my pussy until I’ve cum! Now fuck me harder!”

“Holy shit!” he groaned, and began to fuck her like a madman. He moved his right hand from her hip to her free breast and squeezed it roughly, pinching her nipple and drawing even more of those wonderful, maddening sounds from her. He couldn’t move her eyes off her face, as she panted, with her mouth open and her eyes closed, her expression showing the greatest pleasure imaginable. And it was because she was like this with him, _fucking_ with him … His balls tightened, ready to release. “Hermione, I’m going to cum … Fuck, I’m going to cum …”

“Not — yet!” she demanded. “I’m so close, Ron!”

Growling, he gave her tit a hard squeeze and moved his hand to between her legs, slowing his thrusts a bit. Despite the awkward position, he began to flinch her nub expertly, starting slow and then increasing the pressure and speed as she got more and more aroused and close to her release.

“Oh, Ron, yes! Rub me! Rub me! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!”

Ron’s cock demanded more as well, and he resumed fucking her. His wrist started to protest, but he forced himself to keep moving his fingers even as his hand became numb. She moaned louder, her hands grasping the sheets, and then buried her face in the pillow, giving him an even better angle, and he felt his sack contracting.

“Fuck, Hermione!” he shouted, knowing he was about to cum.

“DON’T STOP!” she yelled, her voice muffled by the pillow. Ron fucked her even harder, his fingers now moving at light speed over her clit, and he began to cum, unloading powerfully into the clutching pussy of his fiancé.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

“Yes, Ron, yes! Oh, yesyesyes, fuck, YESSSS!” she shouted, her own orgasm uncoiling. He felt her cunt flutter around him, helping to milk his cock of every last drop of his spunk, and he kept thrusting and moving even when he started to get soft and she had also finished, both of them panting as if they had run a marathon.

“Holy — fuck …” he commented.

“I agree,” she said, turning her face upwards. “I definitively agree.”

Ron moved off her, taking his hand from between her legs. It ached, but he did not mind. It had been worth the discomfort. With the arm still under her, he brought her against him so they were lying side-to-side, her back pressed against his chest, as they recovered. Then, once Ron had regained some feeling, moved it to her chest so he was cupping her tits again.

“They won’t fall, you know,” she commented, amused.

“Better safe than sorry,” he stated, giving her a squeeze.

Hermione laughed, and then reached for her wand. She cast a Cleaning Charm and Refreshing Charms on them and then used it to put the covers over their bodies.

“Mmmh,” she purred contentedly as she snuggled against him.

Ron smiled and gave her a kiss on the back of her neck. They fell asleep just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this chapters, letting bits of the background I’ve built in my mind show. I hope you liked it as well, and please tell me what you think about my Aunt Muriel. I really loved writing her!  
> And now Hermione’s got her own problems as well. She was the only one of our trio for whom things seemed to go well in their job but of course Skeeter had to intervene!  
> So, give me your thoughts. I’ll post the next chapter around New Year!  
> Merry Christmas to you all!


	7. Family Secrets Are Not Meant to Be Disclosed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter continues to create havoc for Hermione. Meanwhile, Ron and Harry continue on their search for the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, happy new year to all of you!  
> Sorry for the delay but I’ve been enjoying my time with my family.  
> Enjoy!

Next morning, both Harry and Ron were called by Gallory to a surprise meeting. At first they had believed he had devised a new way to punish them, but it turned out every Auror who had taken part in the investigation was called as well. The purpose: informing them all that they were going to press charges against Goyle and put him on trial. That very morning Gringotts had sent a copy of the vault records, giving them more evidence against him, even if it was still circumstantial.

“Today, experts from the Department of Mysteries are going to check him to confirm whether he’s under an Unbreakable Vow or not. In it turns out he’s not, then he’ll be given Veritaserum. If he really is, then we’ll use that against him.”

“But Sir, if Goyle has been paid, then he is following orders and —” argued Harry.

“And we’ll go after them in due course,” replied Gallory, interrupting him harshly. “But since we arrested Goyle there had not been more attacks. He is the culprit, and he’ll pay for it.”

“But —”

“No ‘buts,’ Potter!” Gallory yelled. “You and Weasley have proven that, regarding this case, you can’t be trusted at all. If you had done your work well, with the proper dedication instead of complaining, we could have stopped Goyle before he attacked Malbard!”

Harry seemed to want to reply and even opened his mouth but, in the last moment, he closed it and stayed quiet.

Satisfied that he had made Harry shut up, Gallory almost smiled as he turned to look at Ada. “I want to congratulate Auror Ladnus and her team for their work, though. Thanks to their idea of asking for Goyle’s records, we have definite proof to send him to trial.”

It was obvious, to Ron, that Gallory was really happy about this, and, as the icing on the cake, he had humiliated he and Harry, which — he suspected — was the only reason they were in this meeting.

Something deep inside him roared at the idea, wanting him to get angry. Certainly, a week ago he would have, but now … Was it because of what he knew about Gallory’s past? Or maybe because, as he now felt somewhat detached from the Auror Office he no longer cared as much?

He felt Harry nudge him, and realised the meeting was over. They exited the meeting room and walked towards the cubicles.

“I think we should have said something about what we know,” said Ron, feeling a bit guilty.

“But we have no proof, and you saw how Gallory acted when I tried to argue with him. He’s blind to anything but sending Goyle to prison. We’ve just got rumours, Ron, nothing else.”

“I know.”

Harry checked his watch. “I’ve got to meet Sheila in half an hour. Do you mind if I give you company until then?”

“No. You can help me with those damned reports, even.”

“I would never deprive you of that pleasure, I know how much you love them,” Harry teased, and Ron grunted.

“Git,” he muttered.

Harry let out a chuckle.

“At least you’ve got a predictable schedule,” Harry commented. “Right now I don’t know what hours I’ll have to work tomorrow.”

“Yes, well — Hermione,” he said when they reached his cubicle. His fiancé was sitting on his chair, looking visibly upset. “Love, what happened?” he asked with worry, hurrying towards her. He crouched down before her and grasped her hands in his.

She just nodded towards his desk. Ron looked and saw a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on it. Harry, frowning, moved closer and grabbed it. “Skeeter’s article?” he asked.

Hermione just nodded.

“What does it say?” asked Ron, getting up. Harry opened the newspaper, found the editorial, and they began to read

_ GRANGER’S (IN)EQUALITY LAW (II) _

_A STORY OF AMBITION_

_An editorial by Rita Skeeter_

_In the first part of this editorial, we revealed the darkest, most worrisome implications of the new ‘Equality’ law proposed by Hermione Granger. And we ended with a question: Who will benefit the most from a more Muggle-y Wizarding world?_

_In this second part we’ll try to find and question to that._

_As exposed previously, and as our readers surely know, Hermione Granger completed her seventh year at Hogwarts after the war and graduated with the highest qualifications. She enrolled in the Ministry immediately afterwards, starting what was going to be a meteoric career. In just four and a half years, she reached the position of Head of the Legal Office, which, in the new Ministry, centralises legislation work among other things. Without a doubt, a position of immense power for such a young woman._

_Were anyone to ask about her career, most of the people questioned would define it as laudable, and would consider her a role model to imitate, as what she’s got can only be achieved with intelligence, perseverance and hard work._

_Of course, that’s true. But it is not less true that one does not reach such a high position with just hard work and intelligence. One needs other things, like contacts and friends, and we’ve already established that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, is a friend of hers. Many people in the Ministry have declared, under anonymity, that Ms Granger is, in fact, Shacklebolt’s protegé. She is also Harry Potter’s best friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law, and, in the past, she hasn’t hesitated in using Potter’s name and influence to get some laws passed. Some would say that these things are normal in the political game, but many others would believe it shows that she’s ready to do anything to achieve her goals, even using her friends and family._

_And her readiness to use any means necessary leads us to another thing required to success and that she’s got in spades: ambition._

_I was, myself, a witness of Ms Granger’s love games when she was only fifteen, toying with Harry Potter’ and Viktor Krum’s hearts. And though those relationships didn’t go further, it proves that she knows how to get fame and notoriety by getting close to the right people. Of course, some would say she ended up engaged to Ronald Weasley, clearly the least remarkable member of the trio, indicating that she follows her heart and not her brain. But those saying such affirmations would miss a very important point: though the Weasley family held little power while the trio was at Hogwarts, that changed drastically after the war. Members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Weasleys are now publicly recognised as one of the most important families in Britain. Due to the large number of members, Ms Granger would, through her marriage to Ronald Weasley, be related to the Head of the Misuse of Magic Office (Arthur Weasley, her future father-in-law), the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister (Percy Weasley, a brother or Ronald’s), important employees of Gringott’s (William and Fleur Weasley, brother and sister-in-law), and successful entrepreneurs (George Weasley, owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes). And with the laws she worked to approve, she holds enormous popularity among House Elves, goblins and centaurs. This would give her access to lots of money through easy loans, and even to secrets of any family that dared to oppose her (as House Elves cannot be forced anymore to protect family secrets)._

_So, under the pretence of improving the Wizarding world, Hermione Granger has amassed an enormous amount of power, and yet that doesn’t seem to be enough to quell her disproportionate ambition, which seems to have no bounds._

_Though fearful to talk, many important Ministry officials have confessed to us that they know for a fact that Hermione Granger won’t stop until she’s the next Minister for Magic, as soon as Shacklebolt is ready to step down. She has supported him and his reforms through and through, and it’s only logical that he will help her to be in a position of incontestable advantage to succeed him._

_With this law, she will just consolidate the support for her ambition, as many people will be indebted to her._

_I don’t doubt that Granger can, despite her ambition, improve the living conditions of the Wizarding community. No, she’s capable and intelligent. And maybe she wants to help, but, as many have declared, she believes herself to be more gifted and smarter than anyone else. I sought the opinion of fellow students at Hogwarts, though it was hard to get them to talk. However, when they did, they told us that she was self-righteous and unyielding, hating when someone got ahead of her in anything, and even treating anyone who disagreed with her as dumb or retarded. It seems that she thinks that her way is the only way, and history has often proved how dangerous that is, especially when in a position of great power. It is a fact that power corrupts, and the greater the power, the sooner it happens. Both Tom Riddle and Gellert Grindelwald once promised they were working for the sake of the Wizarding world, yet that turned into despotism and a bloodbath. Are we unknowingly following a similar path?_

_In the hands of our representatives is the power to stop that before it happens._

“Holy fuck …” muttered Ron, astounded.

“That cow,” added Harry. He looked at Hermione. “Hermione, it’s just Skeeter. She’s written bullshit like this in the past. Why are you letting it affect you?”

“Don’t you see it, Harry?” she almost yelled, her voice shaky. “She painted me as some sort of — of power-hungry tyrant! She compared me to _Voldemort_! _To Voldemort!_ ”

Ron knelt down in front of her and grasped her hands in his once more for support. “Are you afraid this will affect the voting?”

“Of course it will! She wrote it very carefully, don’t you see? Oh, I am intelligent, and smart, and I can do good things, but as I do that, I get more and more power, which is what I secretly want, so I can improve things, but in my way, because I think everyone else is stupid. She’s saying that it does not matter how much good I’ve done, in the end I’ll end being a dictator that rule the country with an iron hand. This is the excuse many will need to vote against the law. Isolda Selwyn must be rubbing her hands in glee after reading this.”

“But they gave you such a strong applause, Hermione. The Wizengamot is not composed of pureblood bigots anymore.”

“No, but they won’t go against the public opinion. And they can be persuaded, or paid, to vote against the law. Knowton and Kingsley are really worried.”

“You’ve lost other votings in the past, and then insisted until they passed. Even if you lose on Friday — which, by the way, I don’t think it’ll happen — you’ll get it approved in the end.”

She didn’t say anything for a bit, staring down at the floor. Then she raised her head to look into his eyes. “But I wanted to get this done so I could focus on our wedding; to enjoy what I’ve achieved so far and take things easy for a while.”

“Hermione, the people who knows you won’t believe a word Skeeter has written,” assured Harry. “All those anonymous witnesses and such are just inventions.”

“Not everyone likes me, Harry.”

“Well, you can’t expect that, right? But most people do.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But what irks me the most is that she’s implying I’m using you both to ascend. She described me as a cold-hearted, calculating bitch,” she said, her eyes wet with tears.

Harry laughed. “Well, my name has been dragged through the mud before, Hermione.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. “I don’t care about that, love. I know you’re not using me for my impressive influence over the Wizarding world. I’m aware it’s just for my outstanding performance in the sack,” he finished, giving her his lopsided smile.

At this, Harry groaned, but Hermione laughed.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Ron added softly, caressing her cheeks and brushing away her tears. Hermione nodded and leaned forwards to give him a kiss, then got up.

“Well, I’ve gotta go,” announced Harry. He looked at Ron. “So what — are you up for visiting the Notts today?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I’ll see you at half-past five, then?”

Ron nodded.

Harry patted his shoulder and then hugged Hermione, pecking her on the forehead. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he said when they separated. “If anyone saw us there would be an article tomorrow saying you’re having a threesome with both of us.”

“Shit, Harry, don’t joke with that!” exclaimed Ron, grimacing. Hermione, however, smiled.

“Thanks, to the both of you,” she said fondly. “I’ve got to go back to work and do some damage control.”

Ron and Harry nodded and she left.

“See you later, Mate.” He glanced towards the pile of paperwork. “Have a, er — well, a nice day …”

“Yeah. I’ll have loads of fun,” whined Ron dejectedly.

Harry patted him on the back once more and left.

Ron spent his morning with his usual routine of paperwork, hating every minute of it. Yet his mind kept wandering to the shop, to new products he would like to develop and use, to new locations where they could open new shops … Wouldn’t that be a million times better than this?

And yet, he had worked hard to get to where he was right now, and he liked to say that he was an Auror. He loved _being_ an Auror. He liked working with Harry, or close to him, and just a few dozens of yards away from Hermione.

Shaking his head, he rubbed his face and tried to concentrate on those horrible, boring reports.

His day improved a bit when Hermione sent him a note telling him she needed some time off and asking him to meet her at the canteen at one for lunch. So, at ten minutes to one he left his cubicle and went to the Atrium. Hermione hadn’t arrived yet, so he sat at a table and asked for pumpkin juice while he waited.

Five minutes later, he saw Hermione walking across the Atrium, accompanied by Knowton and Kingsley. The Head of the Department said something to them and walked away. Hermione and Kingsley moved towards the canteen and his table.

“Hi, Ron,” said Kingsley, who, Ron noticed, looked quite tired.

“Kingsley,” replied Ron. “Tiring week, eh?”

“You could say that,” he said with a sigh. “How are you here alone? Where’s Harry? At home?”

Ron shrugged. “I suppose he’s having lunch with Sheila Jennings.”

Kingsley frowned. “With Jennings? Why?”

“Well, he’s now working with her,” explained Ron a bit awkwardly.

“What do you mean he’s working with her? He’s your partner.”

“Not anymore. Gallory — well, he separated us.”

“What!? Why?” Kingsley asked, now clearly annoyed.

“Well, he thinks we did a very poor job in the case of the comatose victims. That we allowed Goyle to attack the last one when we could have prevented it.”

“Isn’t he going to trial?” he asked Hermione.

She nodded. “Yes, Mr Gallory presented the documentation today. Though evidence is not conclusive,” she added. “In my opinion they should wait.”

“Ron, Harry and you are two of the best Aurors in the Ministry. I won’t let Gallory’s prejudices affect the office. I’ll talk to him and —”

“Please, don’t,” asked Ron, causing both Kingsley and Hermione to stare at him in disbelief. “Robards will come back and we’ll talk to him. I don’t want anyone saying we’re getting preferential treatment. The last thing you need is Rita Skeeter publishing another article saying exactly that.”

Kingsley grunted, though he couldn’t really disagree with him. “I want to know all the details, and then we’ll talk about this in the next staff meeting of the department. He checked his watch. I’ve got to go. See you.”

They said goodbye to him and then Hermione sat down in front of Ron.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to tell him not to say anything,” said Hermione as she wrote her order in the magical parchment on the table.

Ron shrugged. “As I said, it’s the last thing you need.”

“Thank you, Ron.”

Ron reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You’ve got a brilliant future at the Ministry, while I don’t know if I’ll be here next year.”

“Ron …”

“It’s true. I haven’t decided anything, though. I like the idea of being an Auror, you know. Only that, lately, the idea does not match reality.”

She nodded, understanding. Just then, two trays appeared in front of them, with their sandwiches and drinks. They started to eat.

“Anyway, do you know when the trial will be? I mean, the day,” he asked after a couple of minutes.

“Next week, probably.”

“I wanted to tell Gallory and the others about what we know — or well, suspect, but Harry thinks we shouldn’t, that we’ve got no proof, just rumours.”

“I agree with him,” said Hermione. “What we found out fits, but there is so much we ignore about the whole thing.”

“But they could investigate it,” insisted Ron.

“Do you think Gallory will want to do that? To give credit to something you and Harry say?”

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Probably not.”

Hermione sighed. “That’s highly unprofessional, of course, and that will have to be addressed. His prejudices, despite how legitimate they might be, may be harming the case. But, anyway, he’s in command right now, so you need more information, Ron. And proof.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Gallory won’t take anything than can jeopardise Goyle’s trial into account.

“You could talk to Ada Ladnus, though,” suggested Hermione. “As I said, the evidence against Goyle is weak. They will need more.”

Ron looked at her, pondering it, and then nodded. “I’ll see if she’s at her cubicle and talk to her.”

They fell silent for a bit, as they continued eating. Hermione’s was the first to finish and, as she gulped down the rest of her juice, Ron spoke again.

“How’s been your day so far? Besides, you know — the article.”

Hermione shrugged. “It was rather horrible, to be honest. Kingsley is going to release another press note about it. But I noticed several people giving me strange looks today. More than a few were members of the Wizengamot. I expected that, I suppose, as I don’t know them very well. But others were people with whom I’ve worked for months, Ron. And I won’t lie to you — that hurts. More than I like to admit.”

“Shit, Hermione, I’m sorry. Fuck, don’t those wankers know everything Skeeter writes is worth less than hippogriff dung?”

“Maybe they want to believe it, or, in some cases, it suits their interests. Remember what happened to Harry at Hogwarts: people were as eager to worship him as to believe anything bad about him. People likes to see heroes fall, Ron.”

“Yeah, but why? What do they gain from that?”

Hermione smiled sadly. “It makes them feel better about themselves, I suppose.”

Ron scoffed. “Idiots.”

“I know, but that’s the way it is,” she sighed, and then checked her watch. “Merlin, it’s so late! I’ve really got to go, Ron. Hopefully I’ll be home by the time you come back. Good luck with the Notts.”

“Thank you. Don’t think too much about this, okay?” he asked her. And though she nodded before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and practically ran out of the canteen, Ron knew that the possibility of her not thinking too much was the same of him passing an Arithmancy exam.

Ron had finished his sandwich and had asked for some Yorkshire pudding when his father walked in, talking animatedly with another wizard. He saw Ron and a grin broke into his face. He told the other wizard something and then approached him, sitting on the chair Hermione had vacated just five minutes before.

“Hi, Son. You alone?”

Ron nodded. “Had lunch with Hermione, but she had to go back to work.”

His dad nodded gravely. “Yes, nasty business, that article. Rita Skeeter …” He shook his head. “You should have heard your mother this morning. I’m surprised she didn’t send _The Prophet_ a howler.”

“Shame,” said Ron. “She did really upset Hermione.”

“I know. Saw her an hour ago.”

“Do you want something to eat? I’m already finishing, but —”

“Oh, don’t worry, Son. I’ll have lunch with Waylan,” he said, nodding towards the wizard with whom he had come. “How’ve you been, Ron?”

Ron knew he was asking about his job, but, before answering the question, another, more pressing matter came to his mind.

“Dad … What do you know about your great uncle Sarmonius?” he asked gravely.

At once, his dad’s expression changed. “Your Aunt Muriel told you about him, right?”

Ron nodded. “Is — is it true? That he and his wife were pureblood fanatics? That they killed those Muggles?”

His dad took off his glasses and began to clean them before answering.

“If you want the truth, Son, I can’t give it to you. He was stranded from the family, so I never met him. I knew my grandfather and him weren’t close, and one day they had a big row and never talked again. For what I gathered, yes, he was a supporter of Pureblood supremacy. Whether he and his wife were guilty of those murders, though — I don’t know.”

Ron nodded, feeling even worse.

“But you shouldn’t feel bad about that Ron, it has nothing to do with you.”

“But I always though us Weasleys were against that bullshit!”

“Son, no family is perfect. What does it matter if your great-great-uncle was a bad person? Don’t forget that my mother, your grandma, was a Black. Most of her family were Dark wizards, including her own parents, your great-grandparents. But that has nothing to do with who you — or I, or any of your siblings — are.”

“Oh,” said Ron, a bit shocked. He hadn’t thought about that.

His dad got up and walked around the table to put a hand on his shoulder. “Forget about it, Son.”

He just nodded. “Thank you, Dad.”

“See you.”

He watched his dad walk away towards Waylan and then got up to go back to work.

Upon entering the Auror Office, he walked to Ada’s cubicle and, luckily, she was in there.

“Have you got a minute?” he asked her.

“Yes, but no more,” she told him. “What’s up?”

Quickly, Ron told her that the three victims were, most surely, related to the Notts, though they had been raised in other families or the orphanage, and that they should look for someone that wanted revenge on them. Someone that, most surely, had been close to them in the past.

Upon finishing, Ada stared at him open-mouthed. “Where does that information come from?”

“Let’s say one of my aunts likes to make everyone’s business her own,” Ron explained.

“So — rumours?”

“Yeah,” Ron admitted, “but, as you see, it all fits. If that were true, it would explain why those three victims were chosen.”

“Yes, it woulds, but — why didn’t the Notts say anything, then? If they’re being attacked …” she trailed off.

“They abandoned their own children, Ada. They wouldn’t, ever, admit a squib and the son of a Muggle are related to them. But you could request that they be subjected to a Blood-Checking Spell, to confirm if it is true or not.”

Ada thought about it, though she looked doubtful. “I’m very busy preparing the documentation for the trial, ‘cause I’m meeting Tom Ackerly in an hour to revise it with him. And right now, a couple of witches from the Department of Mysteries are with Goyle, but I’ll see what I can do. After all, we haven’t got other clues.”

Ron nodded. “Just take that into account, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Ron.”

With a nod, Ada left, a thick folder under her arm. Ron watched her for a few seconds and then went back to his cubicle and his never-ending pile of reports.

After another boring afternoon, Ron finally left his cubicle to meet Harry at his cubicle, but he was not in there. He waited for ten minutes, but, bored and not wanting to spend more time in the Auror Office, he wrote him a quick note to tell him he would wait at the Atrium. He left it on top of his desk and walked out of the department. He was approaching the lifts when one of them opened and Harry stepped out, accompanied by Elton Chowks. Harry looked at him with a frown.

“Where are you going? Did you forget we were going to meet after work?” he asked.

“I’m not daft, Harry. I just left you a note telling you I’d wait in the Atrium.”

“Sorry for the delay. We were going to leave but there was an altercation in Diagon Alley.”

“Another pair of drunks?” asked Ron, walking back with both Aurors.

“Someone attacked Astoria Malfoy,” said Chowks, talking for the first time.

“Really? Who? Didn’t you arrest him?”

“No. We heard people yelling and ran, but our help wasn’t needed — she had already hexed her attacker.”

“Did she?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” nodded Harry. “She seems weak, Astoria, but she looks rather fierce when angry.”

“What about the criminal?”

“They were covered by large cloak and a hood, so we don’t know who they were. Probably a man, due to their size and height, but we’re not sure. Anyway, when they saw us approaching, they Disapparated,” explained Harry.

“She didn’t know who they were, either?”

“No. She told us she was about to enter Gringotts when this person shot a curse at her. It cut her on the cheek, but she was able to defend herself against the next hex and then counter-attack,” responded Chowks.

“We need to file a report on the incident and then we can get going,” declared Harry. “Do you mind?” he asked Ron. “It’ll be quick.”

“Nah.”

“Do you believe her when she said she was attacked out of the blue?” asked Ron once they were in Harry’s cubicle and he was writing the report. “I mean, she’s a Malfoy.”

“Other witnesses confirmed that,” said Chowks. “Apparently, the man was waiting for her. Some people remembered him leaning against a wall near the bank.”

“Maybe he was just waiting for someone rich,” suggested Ron.

“Umh,” said Harry, doubtful. “If they wanted money, it would be more logical for them to wait until she came out, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, right,” nodded Ron. “He was waiting especifically for her, then? How did they know she was going to go to Gringotts?”

“She usually comes to Diagon Alley on Tuesdays, apparently,” said Harry.

“It was quite daring of them, attacking like that in broad daylight,” commented Chowks.

“The Malfoys don’t have much of a social life,” Harry told them. “And Diagon Alley is more accessible than Malfoy Manor.”

“I wonder who they were,” said Chowks, his expression thoughtful.

“Someone that hates the Malfoys,” suggested Ron. “Which means it could be anyone.”

“But Astoria is not really a Malfoy,” said Harry as he signed the report.

“Well, she married one,” replied Ron, shrugging. “I wonder why the hell anyone would want that, though. Probably her family wanted her to marry a pureblood.”

“I had never talked with her before, but she didn’t seem to be the kind of person who does someone else’s bidding just because,” said Harry.

“Yeah, she looked rather fiery,” confirmed Chowks. Ron doubted anyone would want to marry Malfoy if not asked, but he shrugged. He didn’t remember her from Hogwarts, but she was, after all, a Slytherin. Her sister Daphne hadn’t been as bad as Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bulstrode, but she was always with them and used to laugh at Pansy’s jokes about him and his friends, especially the ones directed at Hermione.

“Anyway, we’re done here,” declared Harry when Chowks had stamped his own signature on the parchment. “Do you mind filing this? Ron and I have an errand to run.”

“Not at all,” answered Chowks, getting up.

“Don’t forget to send a copy to her, in case she wants to make an official report,” added Harry. “Not really necessary as we’ve witnessed it, but who knows? The last thing we need are the Malfoys speaking to the Prophet and saying we’re letting people attack them and doing nothing in return.”

Ron scoffed. “Many would cheer for the attacker,” he commented.

“I know, but there’s always people that would use that against us, even if secretly they don’t mind. And we’re Aurors, after all.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do that. See you tomorrow,” said Chowks and then left.

“Shall we, then?” asked Harry, looking at Ron.

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. Thew took a lift to the Atrium, where they would Disapparate. However, before they could, they were surrounded by a swarm of reporters, and, among them, Rita Skeeter in person.

“Harry, dear! Long time without seeing you! And Ronald Weasley as well. Isn’t it —?”

But Ron didn’t let her finish. The moment he heard her voice, his blood boiled and he advanced towards her, red with fury.

“YOU!” he bellowed, causing everyone in the Atrium to look at them. “You, lying snake! How dare you write such lies about Hermione?”

Skeeter retreated a bit, looking afraid, but, when Harry grabbed Ron’s arm, she recomposed quickly. “I get you read my editorial, Mr Weasley.”

“You call that load of shit an editorial?” Ron exclaimed. “I can’t understand why _The Prophet_ keeps publishing your trash, after how many times your stories have been proven false!”

“You deny then that she’s trying to set the foundations to run for Minister?” asked another reporter. Ron shot him a death glare sow intense the man recoiled at once, looking away.

“Well, if you’ve got so angry, I must be spot on,” continued Skeeter, smiling. “I understand your anger. I’d be mad as well if I had realised my fiancé is only using you for my contacts —”

“HOW DARE —?” Ron shouted, reaching for his wand. Harry was quicker, though, and grabbed him, pulled him away from Skeeter and placed himself between Ron and her.

“Ron, calm down!”

“Calm down!? Calm down!? Did you hear what she said? You’re nothing but a liar, Skeeter! A liar and a disgrace!” Ron shouted over Harry’s shoulder.

“Let me take care of this, please, don’t give her the satisfaction to see how much her lies affected you.”

Ron just grunted, but, when Harry released him, he stood in the same spot, folding his arms and scowling.

Harry turned round to face the reporters. “I’ve known Hermione for thirteen years,” he said in a loud voice, “and if I could tell just one thing about her, it would be that she’s the kindest, most honest and most caring person I’ve ever met. She’s pushing this law because it’s the right thing to do, and she’d do it even if it harmed her. I’ve seen her do the right thing even if it turned bad for her, and that hasn’t changed. If her career here is soaring is due to her hard work, her intelligence and her integrity. She saved my life more times than I can count, and I won’t have anyone badmouthing her in this way. She’s never used me. If I’ve publicly supported the laws she’s written it’s because I believe in them, and, just for your information, she never asked me to; it was always I the one to offer my help.”

At this, Ron nodded, very grateful for Harry’s words.

“Very interesting, Harry,” said Skeeter in a false, happy voice. “If you didn’t mind answering a few questions, maybe we could show the public what you see in her. You obviously care about her a lot.”

“Of course I do, she’s like the sister I’ve never had and my best friend. And no, I won’t answer any of your questions, as you’ll only twist my words to harm us. Why don’t you instead answer the questions for a change? Like telling us all what’s behind this campaign against the Equality Law. Who’s paying you?”

Every pair of eyes in the Atrium focused on Skeeter, who tried to ignore it, smiling condescendingly at Harry. “The Prophet pays me, Harry. I’m a journalist.”

Ron scoffed. “You wouldn’t write the truth even under the influence of Veritaserum, Skeeter!”

At this, some of the other reporters snickered. Rita flushed.

“Well, you never answer my questions or help me do my job, I must seek the truth through other sources. But if you let me get close …” she trailed off. “For instance, I know _Witch Weekly_ is very interested in an article about your wedding. If I could attend and —”

“Are you insane!?” shouted Ron. “I wouldn’t let you attend to my wedding even if my own life depended on it!”

“This is enough,” intervened Harry, raising his voice. “We said what we had to say. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got to go.”

The reporters fell silent for a moment, but, as they walked away, they began to fire questions again, though Rita didn’t say another word. Harry ignored them, however, and, grabbing Ron’s arm, he Disapparated them both, Apparating them again on the lane that led to the Notts’.

“Thanks, Mate,” said Ron as they began to walk. “I should have kept my composure but fuck, just seeing her in there drove me mad.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” said Harry with a grin. “Don’t worry, Mate, I understand. She’s nothing but a viper. And you haven’t got to thank me, I said nothing but the truth.”

“Well, that thing about Hermione never asking you for your support was stretching the truth a bit.”

“It just happened once, and just because I could talk about Dobby. I would have done it anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The kept walking towards the iron gates that gave access to the Notts’ state. It was in Wiltshire, not very far from Malfoy Manor, in fact. Many old families lived in this area, and though there wasn’t a Wizarding village, if was the oldest Wizarding settlement in Britain. In fact, Ron realised, they were relatively close to Southampton, where St Michael’s orphanage was.

The moment they approached the gates, they heard a voice asking, “State your names and your purpose.”

“Friendly,” commented Ron with a scoff.

“Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, Aurors. We’re here in an official mission for the Ministry of Magic.”

The voice didn’t say anything else, but, a minute later, the gates opened and they walked towards the house. The garden was smaller than his Aunt Muriel’s or the Malfoys’, though the manor was as impressive as the latter, but less ominous. Or maybe it was that Malfoy Manor had looked more menacing simply due to the circumstances in which they had gone there.

The front doors of the house opened as they approached them and Theodore Nott appeared before them.

“Potter and Weasley. What a surprise,” he commented, not bothering to hide the fact that he wasn’t pleased to see them.

“Nott,” said Harry in greeting. “I thought you lived in London now?”

The question caught Theo by surprise, but he got himself together quickly and just shrugged. “I came to spend a few days with my family, as these are difficult times for us, with my cousin still out cold,” he explained, though Ron knew that he was lying.

“Of course,” accepted Harry, though Ron knew he hadn’t believed Nott, either. “In any case, we need more information regarding that attack.”

“Why? I believed the Ministry had already caught the culprit? You arrested Goyle, didn’t you?”

“He’s under arrest, yes though he’s not the one behind all this.”

At those words, Nott furrowed his brows. “Anyway, we already gave that Auror, Ada Ladnus, all the information we had.”

“Maybe, maybe not; we’ll be the judges of that,” replied Ron. “May we go in? It’s rather cold out here.”

Theo shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, and turned his back on them. Ron and Harry shared a look and followed him. The door closed on itself once they were inside, and they let their former classmate lead them towards the large drawing room. It had a high ceiling, from which two immense chandeliers hanged, and a series of couches and armchairs arranged in a rectangle facing the large fireplace.

Nott nodded towards one of the couches, and then sat down on one of the armchairs. He didn’t offer them a drink or anything else. Not that they would have accepted, but still.

“Are you alone?” asked Harry once they were sitting down.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Nott,” said Ron sarcastically. “Maybe because we want to talk to other members of your family?”

Nott threw him a glare.

“The questions we have refer to many years ago,” explained Harry calmly. “We’d like to talk to Anticus, your grandfather.”

Theo frowned. “My grandfather is old, Potter, and what happened to Isabelle has weakened him. He rarely leaves his chambers these days, and I’d like you to leave him alone.”

“What do you know about a man called Robert Notte?” Harry blurted out suddenly, hoping to catch Theodore by surprise.

“I’ve never heard that name,” he responded firmly, not showing any sign that he might be lying. “Who’s he? Is he related to that Muggle woman that was attacked before my cousin?”

“He’s the father of the first victim, yes.”

“Why would I know anything about a Muggle?” he asked, as if the idea were simply ridiculous.

“I get you’ve noticed the similarity between your surname and theirs?”

“And so what?”

“We’re wasting time,” intervened Ron, who was getting impatient. “We’ve got reasons to believe the Nottes are related to your family. We need to talk to your grandfather, or your aunt or uncle. Are they here or not?”

“I —” started to say Nott, but, just in that moment, another man, apparently in his fifties, walked into the drawing room through another door. He froze on the spot upon seeing Harry and him.

“What — what are you doing here?” he asked, looking nervous. “Theodore?” he asked, though he kept glancing at Harry. Ron frowned, finding his behaviour rather suspicious.

“We have some questions regarding the attack your —” Harry started to say, but he interrupted himself to ask, “You are Amadeus Nott, aren’t you? Isabelle’s father?”

“I am,” he said in a guarded tone.

“Could you answer some questions, please? Your nephew hasn’t been very collaborative.”

“You’re not the Aurors in charge of the case regarding my daughter,” he replied with evident hostility.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “We’re following another line of investigation, Mr Nott. I imagine you want the culprit, or culprits, caught and punished and, for that to happen, we need your help. Maybe you can tell us what your nephew can’t.”

Amadeus glanced at Theodore, who remained completely expressionless. Then he looked at Ron and Harry again and sat down on another armchair.

“I already told that Auror I don’t know anything.”

“I’m sure she asked you about any enemies you could —”

“She did, yes, and well, we must have lots of them, mustn’t we?” he snapped. “We’re a rich pureblood family, Potter. And my brother, Theo’s father, is in Azkaban, accused of being a Death Eater, as you very well know.”

“He is in Azkaban because he _was_ a Death Eater,” replied Ron rather harshly, earning a glare from Theodore. “I saw him with my own eyes at the Battle of Hogwarts, so let’s not pretend he is an innocent imprisoned unjustly.”

“Anyway, we’re not here to talk about Callum specifically,” said Harry, trying to bring some peace. “I meant in general.”

Still frowning, Amadeus said, “As I told you, I imagine we’ve got lots of enemies, but my daughter wasn’t the only one attacked, was she?”

“What do you know about a man named Robert Notte, Mr Nott?” asked Harry without more preamble.

“Nothing,” said Amadeus, crossing his arms. “Is he related to that Muggle?”

“Her father, yes.”

“Well, I know nothing about any of them. You should be out there doing your job instead of questioning us about Muggles, even ones whose surname is so similar to ours,” replied Amadeus.

“Maybe your father knows more,” suggested Harry, ignoring the jibe.

“Why would he?”

“Maybe he knows something about that family he never bothered telling any of you,” interjected Ron. “This would go much more quickly if we could talk to him — or your older sister.”

“What would my sister know anything if I don’t?”

“Mr Nott, we’re growing weary of these games. Ask her to come, or we’ll come back with an order.”

“We are an old family, Potter, and despite the changes that Muggleborn girlfriend of his,” he added, pointing at Ron, “is pushing, we don’t let anyone threaten us, and much less the likes of you.”

Ron, glaring at him, got up. “What do you mean by that, ‘the likes of you’?” he asked, his tone menacing. “And you’d better hold your tongue when you talk about Hermione, if you know what’s good for you. Now, where is your sister?”

“I haven’t got to —” started to reply Amadeus, but was silenced by another, much softer voice.

“It’s okay, Amadeus.”

Ron and Harry turned their heads at once, and saw a tall, slim woman in the entrance of the room. She walked into the room and Ron couldn’t help but notice how pale she looked, something accentuated by her long hair, which was as dark as her brother’s and nephew’s. She was in her fifties as well, and yet as she walked she looked older, as if tired of living; certainly, she didn’t seem to be a ‘lively’ woman, as Aunt Muriel had said she had been once. She moved regally, though, with the same aristocratic demeanour as Narcissa Malfoy, though she seemed far nicer. Ron didn’t feel towards her the same distaste he felt towards Theo and Amadeus, though, if their suspicions were true, she had abandoned her own child …

“You’re Calista, aren’t you?” asked Harry.

“I am,” confirmed the woman.

“Calista —” began to protest Amadeus, but she silenced him by raising a hand.

“Amadeus, Theodore, leave us alone.”

“But —” her brother protested.

“ _Now_.”

Theodore stood up at once. In fact, he looked eager to leave the room. Amadeus got up as well, reluctantly, but in the end did as his sister had asked, disappearing through the same door he had come in after throwing one last nervous glance at them.

“I must apologise for the behaviour of my brother. These are hard times for him, as you can imagine. And Theo … well, I guess you are not in the best of terms with him.”

Harry nodded.

“Do you want something to drink? I wouldn’t want anyone saying that the ancient customs of hospitality have been forgotten in the House of Nott.”

“No, thank you,” said Ron. Harry shook his head as well.

“Well, what do you want to know that your fellow Aurors hadn’t asked before?”

Harry stared at the woman for a bit, studying her, or maybe considering how to approach the subject. “Ms Nott,” he started at last, “we’ve got reasons to believe that, whomever is behind these attacks, is targeting your family.”

Calista looked at them, unfazed. “Why would you think that? Only one of the victims is from our family, Mr Potter.”

Harry fixed his eyes on her, not saying anything for a few seconds, and then said, very slowly, “I think all of us know, Ms Nott, that that is not true.”

Calista raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I don’t know my family, Mr Potter? Or that you know it better? A bit presumptuous, I think, even for the man who killed the Dark Lord.”

Harry didn’t show any reaction to her words. He just said, “So you have never heard the name Robert Notte?”

“I have,” she admitted. “When you asked my brother about him.”

Ron observed her carefully, trying to detect a lie, but he noticed nothing. Though Harry had a better instinct for this, after years as an Auror he had developed a good sixth sense that told him when someone wasn’t being truthful. So, either Calista wasn’t, or she just had been lying for so many years she had assumed it as the truth.

“And the name John Malbard means nothing to you, either?” blurted out Harry. And then there was, so brief he could have imagined it: a flash of pain crossing her eyes.

“He’s the last victim,” said Calista, looking even more stone-faced than before. _Too_ stone-faced, in fact. “Why would a Muggleborn mean anything to me?”

“You tell me,” replied Harry. “Why would you visit him at St Mungo’s, if he means nothing to you?”

This time she couldn’t mask the surprise at Harry’s statement, though she recovered very quickly. Ron was surprised at first, until he remembered the description of the supposed healer Mrs Smith had seen in his son’s room. It hadn’t been a detailed description, but Calista Nott fit perfectly in it. “I — I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never visited him at St Mungo’s” she denied.

“Mrs Smith, John Malbard’s adoptive mother, saw you.”

“I have never met that woman; how could she have told you I was in there, even if she saw me?” Calista argued, now acting defensively.

“She gave us a description, Ms Nott, and you match it perfectly. Were you at St Mungo’s on Thursday evening? And don’t bother denying it if it’s true, we’ll ask the healers.”

“I was, to see my niece,” she confessed. “Why would I go and visit that man?”

“Because he’s your son, isn’t he, Ms Nott?” revealed Harry. “A son you had with a Muggle; a son you had to give away to avoid destroying the reputation of your family among the purebloods and Voldemort supporters, a group in which your father belonged.”

Calista seemed to have paled even more when she replied, “That’s a lie! How dare you come into the house of my ancestors and insult me in such a way?”

“Stop it!” bellowed Harry, clearly tired of this game of secrets and lies. “Stop with the secrets and the pretences! Voldemort is dead, the world is changing. Nobody cares anymore! Lying only makes things worse for yourself, because whoever is doing this knows you and your secrets! It must be someone close to your family, and you know who they are!”

“Of course I know! It’s Goyle! You have arrested him, have you? I know that just like everyone else in the country, thanks to the _Prophet_!”

“It’s curious that, since we’ve come here, only your nephew has mentioned Goyle, until now,” said Harry shrewdly. “Anyone else would have asked us why we are investigating when there’s a person arrested. The only reason you hadn’t is because he’s not the one behind this, and you know it. The real culprit is out there, and that’s the real reason Theodore is here and not at his flat, isn’t it? You think you’ll be safe in this mansion, protected by old, powerful magic.”

Calista Nott opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again, out of words. It was obvious, to Ron, that Harry was right. So why was she refusing to say anything? Were their family secrets worth the life of one of them? And then, suddenly, another, darker idea struck him: what if they didn’t say anything because they wanted to retaliate? What if they were planning on settling this among them, quietly? Time ago, wizards settled their differences by duelling. Were they going to fight against the person — or people — behind this in a similar way?

“All you’re saying, Mr Potter, are just theories based on rumours and with no foundation at all,” replied Calista coldly. “I wanted to help you, but instead of trying to close this case, you are just throwing ridiculous accusations, and I’m growing weary of it. I must ask you to leave.”

“So, according to you, it’s just a coincidence that the first victim’s surname is Notte, and the last one’s is Malbard, the name of your paternal grandfather?”

“I don’t know whether it’s a coincidence or not, but those people have nothing to do with us.”

Harry and Ron stared at her, but she just looked at the flames in the fireplace, her expression unreadable. And yet, Ron couldn’t help but feel the sadness that emanated from her.

“If you really loved a Muggle, you believe that blood purity doesn’t matter at all,” said Ron after a bit, and she looked at him. “I’m about to marry a Muggleborn, Ms Nott, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Why should I care if my children are pureblood or not? They’ll be mine and hers. Is this stupid reputation worth your happiness? Is it worth the lives of your relatives? Of your own son?”

Calista looked back at the flames for a moment, thoughtful, but, when she turned her head to face them once more, she had back on the mask of a member of the pureblood nobility, and Ron knew for sure that, at least today, the secrets had won. She wouldn’t say anything to them.

“I’ve got nothing else to say,” she declared, her tone final.

Harry stared at her, and Ron knew he was searching for ways to get her to confess. But it would be useless, so he got up.

“We’re going, then,” he said.

Harry looked at him, silently asking what he was doing. Ron just shook his head a bit. Harry held his gaze for a moment, and then conceded defeat, getting up as well.

“We’ll get to the truth, Ms Nott,” declared Harry, looking at her. “I just hope that, when we do, it’s not too late and you don’t end up regretting your actions.”

“Good night, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley; I get you can find the door,” was the only response.

Ron and Harry left. When they were out of the property, Harry looked at Ron. “Why didn’t you let me put her under more pressure?”

“She wasn’t going to say anything, Harry, even if part of her wanted to.”

“But we’re right, Ron. You saw her face when I mentioned Malbard and the fact that she visited him.”

“Yes, I know. He’s her son, though I still don’t understand how it fits with what the Smiths told us about John Malbard’s adoption. By the way, good instinct there, Mate. I had practically forgotten about the woman Mrs Smith told us about.”

Harry grinned. “Well, it just popped into my mind.”

“Anyway,” continued Ron, “she’s been keeping this secret for more than thirty years, even to her own family. I doubt Theodore knows about her son. And maybe she doesn’t know about Robert Notte.”

“But they know who’s behind this. What I said about Theodore living there to be safe is true.”

“Yeah.”

Harry shook his head. “We’re so close,” he said, frustrated. “So fucking close, Mate.”

“Yeah. I’d like to grab them by the collars of their robes and shake them until they tell us the bloody truth, but Gallory would kill us and then Hermione would curse our corpses.”

Harry let out a brief laugh, and then sighed. “Let’s think about this and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry patted him on the shoulder. “Good night, Ron,” he said, and then Disapparated. Ron turned round for a moment, to look at the manor, and wondered how many secrets were buried between its walls. Then he Disapparated home.

“Hermione?” he asked as he Apparated in the hall. He looked in the living room, and, though the lights were on, she wasn’t there. Listening, he heard a very soft music coming from upstairs. He went up to their bedroom and realised she had put on some sort of relaxing music, so she must be in the bathtub.

Taking off his robes and hanging them in their wardrobe, he opened the door to the bathroom, which was filled with steam. Hermione was resting in the large tub with her eyes closed, submerged in very hot water. The room was in almost darkness, the only light coming from a couple of floating candles that emitted just a faint glow. Ron stared at his girlfriend, drinking in her relaxed appearance. She had a glass of wine next to her, and Ron deduced her day had been complicated.

“Hermione?”

She opened her eyes, startled, and looked up at him. “Oh, Ron. Hi. I didn’t hear you coming.”

“I noticed,” he said, smiling at her. “Hard day?”

She sighed and nodded. “A nightmare, actually,” she said. “I needed to relax, so the moment I came home I just prepared a bath.”

“And drinking to forget?” he asked, nodding to the glass, which was nearly empty.

Hermione turned her head to look at it. “It’s the second one already, in fact.”

Ron sat down on the border of the tub. “Do you feel better?”

“A bit,” she said.

“Well, you can stay here and relax a bit more. I’ll pop into the Leaking Cauldron and pick some take out for dinner.”

“Sounds good, but I think I’d rather you took off your clothes and join me.”

“Very tempting,” he said, smiling, his eyes moving over her body, or rather, over where her body should be, as he couldn’t see it due to the foam and bubbles covering her. “But I’m worn out today, Love. So, if you’re thinking about some action …”

“No, I’m rather tired as well. But I need some cuddling with you in here.”

“Okay then. Be back in a minute.”

He went back to the room and divested himself. Then threw the dirty clothes into the laundry basket before joining Hermione in the tub.

“Shit, it’s really hot, Hermione,” he gasped as he put his right foot in.

“I know. Feels wonderful.”

“Because you already got accustomed to it. Fuck, I’m going to boil my bollocks,” he said as he lowered his body next to hers. Hermione shook her head and chuckled.

“You’re such a whiny baby …”

Ron moved one hand and pinched the side of her bum, making her gasp and splash water all around.

“Ron! I asked you to join me so we could relax together, not rile me up!”

Ron laughed and reached for her, shifting them so he was leaning against the back and she was sitting between his legs, resting against his chest. “Better?” he asked, his hands massaging her shoulders.

“Mmmh, yeah. I forgive you for being a prat earlier.”

“Glad to know.” He looked at her glass. “Can I?” he asked, pointing at it. Hermione nodded.

Ron took a long gulp, practically emptying it. When he put it back down, Hermione used her wand to refill it once more. “How was your day, then?” she asked. “Was the visit to the Notts worth it?”

“Yes and no,” Ron answered, and then told her everything they had heard.

“So it seems your Aunt Muriel was right,” commented Hermione when he finished.

“Yeah, seems so, but, as they won’t admit it, we can’t do a shit,” he grumbled. “Fucking fanatics …”

Hermione nodded. “I can’t understand it,” she said. “Abandoning your child, and now she can’t even be with him because no one can know about it …”

“Yeah. And I had the feeling she really wanted to tell us, to put an end to all this, but, in the end —”

“— In the end, her upbringing won,” Hermione finished form him, grasping his hands, which he had on her belly, and squeezing them.

“Yes.”

“I can’t get it,” said Hermione sadly. “I mean, if Teddy, or Victoire, or Dominique were in the same state as Malbard nothing would stop me from being with them, reputations or rumours be damned, and they’re not my children. But, of course, I would have never abandoned my son in the first place, so …”

“I had the feeling she hadn’t really wanted to,” commented Ron. “Maybe she accepted because she feared for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, her father was a Death Eater, after all … Maybe she though the boy was safer with another family.”

“Raised as a Muggleborn instead of a Half-blood?” pointed out Hermione.

“Well, when you put it that way …”

They fell silent, enjoying the hot water and the feel of their bodies touching. Hermione moved a bit to grab the glass and take another sip of the wine and, despite his tiredness, having her naked and moving between his legs was having an effect on him. It wasn’t as if she had her bum on his crotch, but it was still arousing. When she put the glass down and leaned back against him once more, Ron moved his hands up and cupped her glorious, wet tits in his hands, enjoying their fullness.

Hermione let out a chuckle. “I was wondering when you were going to grope my breasts,” she said, amused.

“Well, Love, your tits should be the most touched and worshipped ones in the world, awesome as they are …” he said as he gave them another squeeze. Fuck, he loved how they felt in his hands, how the flesh wobbled under his fingers. His cock hardened completely against her back.

Hermione moved a bit, purring. “Mmmh, it seems not everyone is tired,” she muttered, and shifted a bit, moving her lower back against his dick.

“Yes, it seem so,” he nodded, supressing a moan.

Hermione put her own hands over Ron’s and encouraged him to touch her harder, moaning as well. Ron complied. After a bit, she moved her right arm, bent it so she could slide her hand between their bodies and grasped his prick, making him gasp.

“I think you said you were tired?” asked Ron, his voice husky.

“And I am … but maybe we can relax in another way …” she suggested, and then lifted her ass a bit. He manoeuvred in the water and sat back on his lap, holding his cock so it went between her thighs instead of being trapped under her cheeks. She closed her thighs tightly around it and moved her hips very slowly, causing his shaft to slid between her inner thighs, rubbing a bit against her folds. “Mmmh,” she moaned.

“Fuck, Hermione …” groaned Ron, squeezing her tits harder. Her nipples were hard as rocks, and he couldn’t help but pinch them a bit, which caused even louder moans to escape her mouth.

“You like this, Ron? Having your cock trapped between my legs?”

“Fuck, yeah … Tough it’d feel even better surrounded by that tight pussy of yours.”

“In my pussy, you say …” she muttered, her voice sultry and teasing. “And what about this?”

Slowly, she lifted her hips and bum and grabbed his shaft, stroking it once more. Ron closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying her touch, and then he felt the soft globes of her ass touching the tip before the head went between them, pressing against her puckered hole.

“Hermione …?”

“Consider this a treat, as you like it so much,” she said, pressing down against him. Ron felt the pressure and moaned. “Use your hands to spread my cheeks,” she told him, and he felt his dick twitching at her words.

“Fuck, Hermione, keep talking like that and I’ll cum against your ass,” he said, moving his hands to her plump buttocks. He squeezed her cheeks and then spread them, loosening her hole a bit. “Do you want me to use a finger first? To stretch you out?”

“We’re both wet, and the water is soapy, it’ll be fine,” she said, and pressed down harder. Her butthole resisted, but, under the constant pressure of her weight, it finally gave up and Ron groaned loudly when his dick went in. The immediate, overwhelming tightness caused him to roll his eyes in pleasure.

“Oh, fuuuuuck, Hermione, so tight …!” he grunted.

“Mmmmh,” she moaned, moving his hips just a bit to loosen herself more. Slowly, and little by little, she took his entire cock in her ass until she was sitting on his lap.

“Merlin’s bollocks, Hermione … Oh, fuck, it feels so fucking good. So fucking tight … Shit, I love your ass so much!”

Hermione giggled a bit and then started to move a bit. “Ron, touch me,” she demanded.

Ron, who had moved his hands to her hips when he had bottomed inside her ass, quickly moved them to her breasts, kneading them eagerly, rubbing her nipples with his fingers. They were already rock hard, and he took a moment to pinch them a bit, eliciting new moans from her. She began to move a bit more, letting a couple of inches get out before pushing down once more. Ron was in heaven. Though he would have loved to be on top so he could slam into her with force, having her fucking her ass on his cock while they were in the hot water was even hotter and more arousing.

They played like this for a bit while she got accustomed to the hard rod invading her ass, and then she grabbed his right hand and pushed it down.

“Touch my pussy, Ron,” she ordered, her voice dripping with need. “Please, touch me.”

Ron couldn’t be happier to comply. He let her guide his hand over her curls, enjoying the feel of her cunt, and then applied pressure to her clit, already swollen. He rubbed it the way she loved and she moaned, squirming over him and even tightening her anal muscles around his dick.

“Oh, shit, Hermione, you’re gonna break my cock!”

“I thought — you — loved — it tight, Ron,” she moaned, pressing with her hand against his.

“I do, but, fuck, it’s almost too much! Oh, shit, Hermione!”

“More, Ron,” she said, moving her hips a bit faster. “I need more!”

Ron moved the other hand to her pussy as well, as she spread her legs father away, giving him more room. Still touching her clit with one, he put the index finger of the other into her hole, enjoying her wetness.

“Help me,” he whispered into her ear. “Add one of your fingers next to mine and use the other hand to play with your fantastic tits.”

Hermione moaned and turned her head to look at him. Ron watched her as he continued rubbing her nub. She looked unbelievably sexy, her eyes dark with lust while some strands of her hair were plastered onto her face. His eyes darted to his wet lips before claiming them in a bruising kiss. Hermione moaned into his mouth as she moved up and down his cock again, making him moan as well. They kept moaning between their kisses, until Ron felt her finger slid next to his at her entrance. Then he pulled a bit apart and looked into her eyes. “Do it. Shove it next to me. Let’s fuck your tight cunt together.”

Her eyes darkened even more when he pushed in and she followed him, their combined fingers stretching her open. Her mouth opened in a silent moan, and he couldn’t help but snog her again.

With three of their hands working on her pussy and his cock in her ass Hermione was soon reduced to a moaning mess. Thankfully, and though she was squirming and bucking her hips, she wasn’t moving too much up and down his cock; instead, it was buried inside her snug hole, enjoying the tightness and hotness. Though a bit frustrating, this way he could last longer.

“Gods, Ron, this is so — Oh, I’m so close,” she moaned, her head resting on his shoulder. She increased the pace of her finger and Ron followed her rhythm, wanting her to come undone. His eyes darted to the way she was kneading her breast, and groaned inwardly. He moved his mouth to her ear and sucked on her earlobe, closing his eyes to enjoy the clenching tightness of her asshole while rubbing her clit faster.

Her moans grew wilder and louder and Ron smiled against her skin, relishing the way she kept chanting her name. There was nothing in the world like seeing Hermione cumming.

“Ron, I’m so close!” she cried, bucking her hips faster. “Gods, Ron, you’re amazing! Fuck, I’m coming, Ron!”

“Shit, you’re so fucking hot! Cum around my cock and our fingers, Hermione! Cum hard!”

Her entire body seized in a powerful orgasm and Ron felt her ass clamping powerfully around his dick, almost milking him, while she moaned loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, RON! Ohhhh, Gods!”

Ron helped her ride it out, and then, taking his fingers out of her pussy, held her against him while she regained some breath.

“Good?” he asked softly against her ear.

“Amazing,” she responded, a smile of contentment appearing on her face. “Truly amazing. And to make it better I still have a really hard cock up my ass …”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should do something about that?”

“What do you suggest?” he asked playfully.

“Fucking me hard until you cum deep in my asshole may do,” she responded in the same tone.

“Merlin, yeah!” he said. He let her rest for another minute, moving his hands to play with her tits for a bit, until she moved them to her hips and turned her face to his, a hungry look in her eyes.

“Fuck me, Ron. Fuck me until you cum.”

Ron groaned and, grabbing her hips, began to move her up and down on his dick, each time lifting her more before pushing her down until her cheeks slammed against his thighs and lower belly, the water splashing all around them.

“Oh, fuck, Hermione! Shit, your ass feels so fucking good! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! More! I want more!” he shouted, thrusting up while he pushed her downwards.

“Yes, Ron, yes! Like that! Oh, I feel so full with you in my ass! So full! Enjoy it, Ron!”

“Shit, I already am, Hermione! Fuck, feels so fucking good, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard!”

“Yes, cum in me! Deep in me, Ron!” she encouraged.

“Ooooh, Hermione!” he shouted, feeling his bollocks tightening and his dick throb in her snug hole. “I’m just — Oh, fuuuck, cummiiiiing! Cummiiiing!”

He felt her slam down hard, taking his cock to the hilt and keeping it there while he bucked his hips, his dick unloading powerfully into her clenching ass, giving him more pleasure than he had believed it could exist.

“Oh, Merlin’s cock, Hermione …” he moaned, spent, feeling his dick starting to soften inside her incredible asshole.

Hermione reached for the glass and took a good sip of wine. Before she could put it down, he grabbed it from her and finished it, sighing happily.

“Feel better?” she asked, snuggling more against him.

“Oh, yeah … Right now I’m the happiest bloke on Earth for sure, having my cock in my amazing fiancé’s ass after having cum deep in her bowels …”

“Amazing you say …” she started. “But — do you refer to me, or my ass?”

“Both,” he said, pressing his lips against her cheek.

“I don’t know whether to feel complimented or offended,” she replied.

“Oh, it was definitely a compliment,” he said, moving his arms to pinch her bum. Hermione squealed and turned over, causing him to groan when his dick slipped out of her asshole. She began to tickle him, but he just grabbed her arms and turned the tables on her, making her giggle and squeal even more.

He tickled her sides mercilessly while she squirmed and kicked. Ron smiled at the image and then moved his hands to her tits, cupping them once more.

“Ron!” she said, still laughing. “Why is it your hands always end on my breasts?”

“Well, I could tickle you more, if you prefer …” he said, moving his hands to her sides once more in a threatening way.

“No, no!” she exclaimed, squirming once more. “You can play with my boobs as much as you want!”

“That’s why I like to hear,” he said, nodding approvingly while he squeezed both mounds of flesh once more.

Hermione laughed and then leaned down to kiss him once more. Ron embraced her as they snogged leisurely in the water, enjoying their closeness.

“We should get out,” she said a minute later. “I’m tired and hungry.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. They got up and Ron heard Hermione groan. “What?” he asked.

“Ron, look at the mess we made,” she whined, pointing to the floor. Effectively, their lovemaking had resulted in a lot of water being spilled out of the tub. The entire floor of the bathroom was covered in a thin layer of water, including the bath math.

“Yeah, we’re rather wild, aren’t we?” he said, grinning.

“Ron!”

“What? It’s the truth. And besides, that’s what something called magic is for, you know?” he commented. He took hers, as he had left his in the bedroom, and dried the floor and the mats. “See? Done.”

She chuckled. “I knew I had a good reason to marry you.”

Ron arched an eyebrow at her. “If you’re referring to my cleaning skills, Love, you’re up for a good disappointment …” he replied, teasing, and she laughed.

They washed themselves and then got out of the bathroom, putting on comfortable pyjamas before going to the kitchen to prepare dinner together, both glad for the way their time together shielded them from the roughness of the other aspects of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! Let me know what you think about Skeeter’s article and the visit to the Notts.  
> Next update will be to Discovering Ourselves, in a week or so. Enjoy your time!


	8. There's Always More in a Family Than Meets the Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens as Ron receives a new case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we’re down to the end! Sorry, I know I had promised you it’d be up yesterday at most, but as I told you, I’ve had little time to write and revise these two weeks, and as I write such lengthy chapters it takes a while.  
> Anyway, here it is!  
> Enjoy!

Instead of working, Ron spent the first half and hour basically daydreaming. That morning he had waken up spooning against Hermione. Both having slept just in t-shirts, not bothering with bottoms (though Hermione had put on an old, but still sexy thong), his morning erection had found its way between the supple cheeks of her ass and when he had realised, he couldn’t help but grind a bit against her, sliding his dick up and down her crack, which had led to him fucking her from behind rather energetically while she demanded him to go harder. She had orgasmed twice in a very short time before he had taken his cock out and had cum all over her ass; all of that while she still had her thong on. Then, looking naughty, she had turned round to clean his cock, swallowing their combined fluids. That had led to another erection, and to Hermione riding him enthusiastically, her full tits bouncing wildly as her cunt moved up and down his cock until they had cum once more, utterly spent.

Just thinking about it was causing his dick to stir a bit, which was why he preferred not to have morning sex on workdays, despite how much he loved it: instead of falling asleep in each other arms, they had to go to work. Fortunately, today his pile of reports was rather small. It seemed that he had gone over most of the ones in need of revision, thank Merlin. He wondered what Gallory would ask him to do once he finished, and was musing over that when his voice resounded in the entire office.

“All Aurors available must attend an urgent meeting in Conference Room C in twenty minutes.”

Startled, Ron got up and exited his cubicle.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Dunno,” answered Imelda Lobbs, whose cubicle was next to his. No one else seemed to have an answer, so Ron went back to his desk and sat down, wondering. Fifteen minutes later, he got up once more and joined the other Aurors as they walked towards Room C. Ron saw Harry, who was with the patrolling team (which comprised most of the Aurors) and approached him.

“You were summoned as well?”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry. “I was in Hogsmeade with Chunks. Do you know what happened?”

Ron shook his head. “No idea.”

When they entered Room C, Gallory was already there, waiting for them. He looked angry.

“This doesn’t look good,” commented Chunks.

“No,” agreed Harry as they sat down.

Gallory looked at the twenty-six Aurors for a while, studying every face. Then, he grabbed a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ he had on a table and showed it to them.

“Rita Skeeter has published an interesting article today,” he said, his voice soft yet unmistakably angry. “Usually her stories are nothing but rubbish, and this one is not different for the most part, however …” He opened the newspaper for the first page. Ron could see that the main headline referred to Goyle’s case, but he could see a photograph of Harry on the bottom. He glanced at his friend and, judging by the way he was frowning, he had seen it as well. But in that moment Gallory began to read and he focused his attention back on him.

“The article’s title is _‘Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley in trouble. Big mistakes regarding Gregory Goyle revealed. The integrity of the Auror Office, questioned.’_ ”

Ron and Harry opened their mouths in astonishment. A cacophony of mutterings rose in the room, but Gallory silenced it when he began to read the article.

“ _Journalism is not an easy job. More often than we’d like, we journalists are insulted, accused and attacked for the articles we write. Sometimes, that’s due to inaccuracies or wrong information, but most of the time, and the worst attacks, come when we nail the truth._

_“It’s not a secret that the powerful fear journalists. As a source of power, they’d like to control the flow of information, because what the public perceive as the truth means everything. An article can make a politician soar in popularity or fall so deep they can never go up. It’s also not a secret that the powerful have managed to get their desired control of the media, using it for their own agendas. But, dear readers, let me assure you that I won’t, ever, be one of their puppets, nor will I allow them to silence me._

_“Yesterday, I was subjected to the insults and accusations of Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter because of the two-part editorial I wrote regarding the so-called Equality Law. As you can read in page five in this very newspaper, Harry Potter delivered a passionate defence of Hermione Granger and her work. One could think that that was a natural reaction, for someone to defend so eagerly their best friend and future sister-in-law, a friend who has saved one’s life and had been with them through thick and thin. Yes, it definitively could be considered natural, even without thinking that such a passionate defence may hide more than ‘brotherly feelings’. The nature of the relationship between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger has been thoroughly discussed in the past, and, as you know, and given for how long I’ve known them, I think there’s always been more than that between them._

_"But even that could be considered ‘normal,’ and many would think that that’s a matter that only concerns the two of them and their partners. However, new information has come to light recently. Information that puts this scene in a new perspective and which is far more worrisome for the population of Wizarding Britain._

_"As you very well known, since Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley joined the Auror Office five years ago under the controversial Emergency Recruitment Act promoted by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. We were told they — along other participants in the Battle of Hogwarts — would be a great asset, and such affirmation seemed to be confirmed as time passed and they ascended quickly, being responsible for important detentions of Death Eaters and Snatchers on the run. However, contrarily to the information we had, not everyone in the Auror Office believed that their roles in the war could easily translate into work as Aurors. In fact, Garmond Gallory, Deputy Head Auror — now acting as temporary head since Gawain Robards was wounded during the capture of Rabastan Lestrange — was never happy with that law. And maybe he was right, after all, as it has come to my knowledge that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, in charge of watching Gregory Goyle (suspect of committing the attacks against Amelia Notte and Isabelle Fawley), were convinced that he was not involved at all and that watching him was nothing but a waste of time. However, as our readers know, Gregory Goyle has been officially accused of the crimes and will stand trial next week. But Weasley and Potter’s belief in his innocence led them to a lack of care in their vigilance. As a result, Goyle was able to get away and attack John Malbard. As a consequence of such mistake, Potter and Weasley no long work together, and some say that even their jobs as Aurors are hanging on a very thin thread._

_"Our readers will remember that Harry Potter himself has stated, in the past, that being an Auror was his dream job, and, until now, many believed he was on his way to be Head Auror, something that now might never happen._

_"Unless someone else intervenes._

_"And who else is right now in a position of power, considered the right hand of Francis Knowton, current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and in the right path to become Minister for Magic?_

_"Is Harry Potter, under the pretence of friendship — or otherwise — making points so Hermione Granger will use her considerable influence to save his job or even get him a promotion, despite his mistakes? Is perhaps ambition what ties the so-called Golden Trio together?”_

At this point, Gallory stopped reading. Ron, boiling with fury, glanced at Harry, who was red in the face with irritation and muttering ‘fucking cow!’ under his breath. Around them, the other Aurors began to whisper.

“Silence!” bellowed Gallory, as he threw the newspaper to the side with disgust. Everyone shut up and he moved his eyes over his subordinates, as if examining them through one of those X-ray devices Hermione had told him about. Finally, he laid his gaze on then both. “I won’t bother reading the rest. I don’t care about the trash she writes about your love lives. But I _care_ about the Auror Office and its reputation. I care about Goyle’s trial. What happens inside this office, unless it comes to trial, stays inside this office!” he shouted, angry. “I want to know who’s talked to Rita Skeeter, and I want to know it right now!”

“Sir, as the newspaper says, we talked to her yesterday, but well — only about what she wrote about Hermione, which, by the way, is utter rubbish and —”

“I know that!” bellowed Gallory, looking at Harry. “And I’m choosing to believe that what she writes about you using your friendship with Granger to get a promotion in this office is a lie as well. But someone told her about what you thought of Goyle’s involvement and my own opinions. So I’ll repeat the question: who — talked — to — her?”

The silence in the room could be cut with a knife. Ron looked around, to the curious and nervous faces. Finally, after a couple of minutes, Linus Lancaster got up, looking his expression grim.

“Lancaster?” asked Gallory, furrowing his brow.

“Sir, you must know it was accidental. I — I went to the canteen yesterday after work, with Charles Coridan and — well, we started talking about the case, and I must have mentioned to him about Potter and Weasley. I — I didn’t realise Rita Skeeter was in a table near us until we got up to leave. But I swear, she couldn’t have heard us, unless she was using a Listening Spell …”

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance, and Ron gulped. He had never thought about someone using Listening Spells in the canteen. The Auror Office and many others were protected against such methods of espionage, but not the canteen. A simple _Muffliato_ would render a Listening Spell useless, yet they had never thought about using it.

Gallory shut his eyes and clenched his fists as if trying to regain control of himself. “You are Aurors! You must be on alert all the time!”

“I know, Sir,” said Coridan meekly.

“Yeah. We’re sorry,” added Lancaster.

“Being sorry doesn’t help! You’re suspended — and without pay! — until next Monday. And pray to Merlin that this doesn’t affect the trial! Dismissed!”

No one wanted to stay in the room with an angry Gallory, so everyone made a quick escape. Lancaster and Coridan, though, approached Ron and Harry.

“I’m sorry,” Lancaster said, looking downcast. “It was not my intention.”

Harry shrugged. “She’s a sneak, Skeeter. She’s been doing this all her life. Only she no longer can use her animagus abilities to spy.”

The other two Aurors nodded and then left.

Harry and Ron were about to follow them when Gallory called them.

“Yeah?” asked Harry.

“I don’t want any of you to have any contact with Rita Skeeter at least until the trial.” He fixed his eyes on Ron. “And I don’t care if she writes your girlfriend is sleeping with all your brothers. Keep away from her, is it clear?”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry.

“Okay,” agreed Ron, though quite reluctantly.

“Sir, the article may harm Ron and me, but it won’t affect the trial. Skeeter only wants to speak ill of us, especially Hermione and me.”

Gallory stared at him with a penetrating gaze. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “The article implies you don’t think Goyle’s the one responsible for this! If you think Goyle’s attorney won’t use that in his defence, you’re as naïve as children! He’s likely to call you to testify at the trial!”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Harry shyly.

Gallory scoffed. “We’ll cross that bridge when time comes. Now go away, I was already busy with the trial and now I’ve got to address this as well before it explodes on our faces.”

Ron and Harry left.

“I’m sorry,” Harry told Ron. “Fuck, that fucking bitch must have drunk Felix Felicis! How likely was that she heard Lancaster and Coridan talking about us the same day we confront her in the Atrium?”

“It’s not your fault,” said Ron. “I was the one who insulted her, wasn’t I? I don’t even care much about what she said about us. I’m more worried about how this might affect Hermione and her law.”

“Shit, yeah,” said Harry. “Gods, I’d happily strangle that woman.”

“So would I, Mate. So would I.”

“Well, I’m heading for Hogsmeade then. See you, Ron.”

Ron looked at him and then an idea occurred to him. “Hey, what about we have lunch together at The Three Broomsticks? It’s been a while since last time we were there.”

Harry thought about it. “Sounds good, but it would have to be a late lunch. Due to the meeting we’re late for the patrol. If you can wait until half past two …”

Ron pondered it. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll ask Hermione.”

Harry let out a wide yawn and nodded. “Good.”

“You look tired,” observed Ron.

“Yeah, didn’t sleep much.”

Ron cringed. “Please, don’t explain to me how my sister keeps you awake at nights.”

Harry snorted. “Your sister is almost seven months pregnant, Ron. Those activities are fairly rare these days.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. “So — what kept you awake?” Ron asked, changing the subject.

“I don’t know, something is nagging at me, but I can’t grasp it. When I think I’ve got it, it slips away. It’ll probably be something unimportant, but —” He shrugged.

“You didn’t forget an important date, right? It happened to me once, I kept thinking I was forgetting something, and it turned out my mum’s birthday was just a couple of days away. Luckily, Hermione asked me if I had thought of a gift.”

Harry stared at him in disbelief and amusement. “You’re incredible.”

“Well, we were getting pretty close to catch Lother Smarmish’s group of Snatchers and I was focusing on that,” said Ron, defending himself.

Harry shook his head. “Anyway, it’s not that,” he said. “But don’t mind, as I said, it’ll be nothing. See you later.”

“Enjoy your patrolling,” shouted Ron when Harry was already walking away.

“Enjoy your reports!” he shouted back, throwing a smirk at him.

Ron grunted and then walked back to his cubicle, his mind going back to that fucking article. He really hoped Hermione could pass a law against printing lies or stories not supported by evidence. Right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to punish Skeeter.

He sent Hermione a memo telling her about his lunch plans with Harry, and she answered back accepting. Smiling, Ron began to work on his remaining reports, hoping to finish with them and wondering what he would be assigned to once he finished. Maybe to patrolling, as well … He wouldn’t mind that too much. At least he wouldn’t feel trapped in his cubicle, feeling like he was wasting his time.

The answer to that question came sooner than he had expected as, around two o’clock he received a memo calling him to a meeting with Gallory when he was back from lunch. Wondering what he wanted or if he had got himself into more trouble, he got up walked towards the office. The door was open and Gallory invited him to enter as soon as he saw him.

Gallory continued writing on the parchment he had been working on for almost a minute, while Ron waited, making an effort not to squirm on his seat. Finally, Gallory pushed the parchment away and looked up at him, leaning against the back.

“You’re almost finished with the revision of the reports, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I wasn’t going to put you to this, but all other Aurors are busy, especially now that Coridan and Lancaster are suspended,” he told him, and Ron nodded, curious. Was there a new case? “I’m sure you know Potter and Chowks witnessed an attack yesterday evening in front of Gringotts. An unknown attacker tried to curse Astoria Malfoy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“We both know there are dozens of people that could be responsible for attacking a Malfoy. However, she claims that it was not just an attack. That it was an abduction attempt.”

“Really?” asked Ron, surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“She sent an official request for investigation an hour ago. So I need you to pop into her house this afternoon and talk to her,” Gallory informed him, passing him the case file.

Ron took it, glancing at the folder before looking back at Gallory. “I need to go to Malfoy Manor?” asked Ron, who couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His desire for a new case had kicked him in the bollocks with force.

Gallory observed him with an inquisitive gaze. “I know you don’t have good memories of that place,” he said, and Ron perceived a hint of sympathy in his voice. “But you’re an Auror, aren’t you, Weasley? And as I said, there’s no one else available. However, if you’ve got a problem with the mission, say it.”

Ron stared back at him, wondering if Gallory was testing him. It was not as if he could refuse an assignment, and he was no coward.

“I can do it,” he assured, his expression determined.

“I don’t trust the Malfoys, though,” added Gallory, “so be careful and ready to call for help.”

Ron nodded and got up. When he was about to exit the office, Gallory called him again.

“Weasley.”

“Yes, Sir?” asked Ron, turning round.

“Don’t screw this up like you did the stakeout on Goyle.”

Ron gritted his teeth, and just nodded before leaving.

“Fuck,” he said when he reached his cubicle. A random attack done by someone unidentifiable in Diagon Alley. Ron knew perfectly well that those cases were rarely resolved, unless there was more to it than it appeared. If it was really an abduction attempt, it might be just someone wanting to ask for a ransom.

As he had fifteen minutes or so before meeting Hermione, he opened the file and read it. Mostly it was what Harry and Chowks had written the day before. Astoria’s complaint only stated that she had been attacked in an abduction attempt by an unknown stranger and requested for the event to be fully investigated.

Ron closed the folder and threw it on the desk with disgust. That the Auror Office, and concretely him, had to work to protect a Malfoy was definitive proof that the Universe, sometimes, had a nasty sense of humour.

Shaking his head, he checked his watch and felt his stomach rumble with hunger. It was twenty past two, so he reduced the case folder and put it in one of the inner pockets of his robe. While he was doing this, the very person he was going to meet appeared in the entrance to his cubicle.

“Hi, Ron.”

“Hey, Love. You’re a bit early. I was going to go and fetch you.”

She shrugged in a weary way. “I was tired and needed to get out.”

Ron looked at her with sympathy and got up, taking one of her hands in his. “Did you read the _Prophet_?”

She nodded.

“Shit, Hermione, I’m so sorry. When I confronted her yesterday I didn’t think, and — fuck.”

“It’s not your fault, Ron. I’m sorry you and Harry got involved in this as well. I hope this doesn’t harm you.”

“Well, Gallory was extremely pissed off at this, you know,” he told her. “It turns out Lancaster and Coridan were talking in the canteen and she overheard them. They believe she used a Listening Spell.”

At this, Hermione froze. “On Aurors?” she asked, flabbergasted. “The nerve of her!”

“Yeah.”

“Whether the Equality Law gets passed or not, I’ll deal with this, I assure you,” she stated, looking fierce and determined.

Ron smiled. “I know you’ll do, Love.”

They walked out of his cubicle to head for the lifts, when Ron caught sight of Ada, who was running towards her own cubicle, her face screwed in worry. Exchanging a worried look with Hermione, they moved quickly, stopping at the entrance.

“Ada? What’s up?” Ron asked.

The Auror, who was taking something from one of her drawers, turned round.

“John Malbard has died.”

“What!?” exclaimed Ron while Hermione let out a gasp.

“Murdered?” she asked.

Ada just shrugged. “No one entered his room, if that’s what you’re asking. His mother was in there with him. He just started spasming. She thought he was about to wake up, but, instead, he simply died.”

“Bloody fuck.”

“We don’t know it it’s the natural run of the curse, or whatever they did to him, though he was the last victim. The other possibility is that whoever did this to him can kill the victims at will, even from afar.”

“Oh, goodness …” said Hermione.

“And the state of the other two seems to have worsened as well. Their constants have diminished. The healers fear they’ll die as well.”

“Shit,” muttered Ron.

“Sorry, but I have to leave you, Gallory’s called for an urgent meeting. We’re going to interrogate Goyle again. If the victims are in danger of death, he might push for the use of Veritaserum, even though the tests for the Unbreakable Vow were positive. And, on top of it all, Lancaster chose today to get suspended …” She let out a deep sigh and left.

Ron and Hermione watched her for a few moments before continuing their way out.

“We’ve got to tell Harry,” Ron said, and Hermione nodded.

From the Atrium, they Apparated to the High Street in Hogsmeade and were suddenly hit with the cold. It was snowing here in the North and there already were areas covered in a blank blanket. In another circumstances, he would have liked to take a look around, as he had always looked Hogsmeade in winter, but, with the last news, they hurried towards the Three Broomsticks.

When they entered, Ron made a quick scan of the room and spotted Harry near the bar, talking to Sheila Jennings. He pulled on Hermione’s hand, moving towards their friend, when he noticed the sudden silence. Stopping moving and looking around, he saw everyone looking at them and whispering.

“Are your lives so boring you must believe anything Rita Skeeter writes?” he spat out loud.

“ _Ron_ ,” Hermione muttered in warning.

Ron ignored her and kept glaring at the patrons, his eyes menacing. Everyone avoided his gaze and looked back at their tables.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered to himself, and resumed walking towards Harry.

“Fuck, Ron, you’re rather scary, you know?” commented Harry in an amused tone when they reached him.

Ron grunted.

“That was not necessary,” scolded Hermione. “It’s not the first time, after all.”

“Fuck ‘em,” said Ron, still angry. Sheila let out a chuckle, and then patted Harry’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave you three to it,” she declared. “Take it easy, Ron,” she added, and then left.

“Come on, I’ve got a table,” said Harry. “Rosmerta, can you send us a couple of menus?” he asked. “And — three butterbeers?” he added, looking at Ron and Hermione.

Both nodded.

“In a second,” the barmaid said.

The three friends sat down and Hermione cast a quick Muffliato around them. Harry eyed her curiously, ignoring the apparition of the menus on top of the table.

“What’s up?” asked Harry. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ron told Harry about Malbard.

“Fuck,” he said. Right then, Rosmerta brought them their drinks, but neither of them paid her any attention. “But — why now?” he asked.

“Maybe the curse ends up in death,” suggested Hermione. “Though it’s strange.”

“But — is there any curse that can be controlled at will?” asked Ron, looking at her.

“Not that I know of,” said Hermione, “but I had never heard of a curse like the ones these three were put under.”

“We need to do something,” said Harry, anxious. “I’m sure that interrogating Goyle will not help. In any case, it’ll only add another victim.”

“They should have pressed the Notts for information,” said Ron, shaking his head. “Now I’m really sure they will want to deal with this by themselves.”

“We could go back there,” suggested Harry. “Talk to them again.”

“I can’t,” said Ron. “Gallory assigned me the case concerning Astoria Malfoy.”

“Did he?” asked Harry, surprised. “Why?”

Ron shrugged. “There was no one else free. And well, the most likely outcome is that I won’t find anything, so another failure in my record.”

“What case concerning Astoria Malfoy?” asked Hermione, her eyes moving from one to the other. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you,” realised Ron. “Yesterday, someone attacked Astoria Malfoy in Diagon Alley, in front of Gringotts.”

“But she managed to defend herself,” added Harry, “so she’s perfectly fine. She did fil the complaint, then?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. Claims it was an abduction attempt. I’ve got to go to Malfoy Manor after lunch to talk to her.”

“To Malfoy Manor?” asked Hermione, biting her lower lip in worry.

Ron grasped her hand in his.

“Yeah. But don’t worry, Love. It’ll be okay.”

“And she hasn’t got any idea about who the attacker could be?”

“Nah, or at least, she didn’t write about it. Probably someone trying to settle some score or wanting to ask for a ransom.” He huffed. “They could take a leaf out of the Notts’ book and deal with this by themselves.”

At this, Harry’s eyes became the size of saucers, as if he had had a sudden revelation. He just stared off into space, with his mouth hung open.

“Harry?” asked Hermione. “Are you all right?”

“That’s it …” he muttered, as if he hadn’t heard her. “That’s it!”

“That’s it — what?” asked Hermione.

Harry’s eyes focused again and he laid them on Ron. “It was Amadeus Nott.”

“What are you talking about?” inquired Ron, not understanding anything. “Amadeus Nott was — what?”

“The one who attacked Astoria yesterday.”

Ron stared at him, completely taken aback. “How the hell did you figure that?”

“Harry, I think you’re getting a bit carried away,” added Hermione. “I mean, what’s the Malfoys have to do with this?”

“You think they are behind the attacks on the Notts?” asked Ron.

“I don’t know, that could be, but it all fits, see: Astoria was attacked in Diagon Alley yesterday, around ten to five. Barely an hour later, we were at the Notts, and when Amadeus saw us, especially me, he got really nervous. But it couldn’t be due to the case; No, I’m sure feared we had gone there due to that assault. I couldn’t take a long look at Astoria’s attacker, but his frame fits with that of Amadeus! And his hair, it was a bit damp, though everything was dry in Wiltshire. However, it did rain in London. He had taken off his cloak, but he was wearing his robes and boots.”

“Harry, he could have been in London for another reason, you can’t —” started Hermione, wanting to stop his friend before he got too carried away.

“Hermione, I know it! This is what has been nagging me since yesterday! I don’t know if the Malfoys are behind this, but don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence that yesterday Astoria is attacked, and today John Malbard dies? You say it yourself, Ron, the old families like to deal with these matters between themselves!”

Ron stared at him. What he was saying seemed far-fetched and, at the same time, sounded true.

“But Lucius Malfoy can’t leave the house and isn’t even permitted to use a wand. He’s monitored all the time. And I don’t think Narcissa or Draco are behind this,” reasoned Hermione.

“That’s what we must discover!”

“Harry …” said Hermione. “Why would Astoria fill a report if they are involved in this?”

That was a good point.

“Hermione, Anticus Nott married Martha Greengrass, Muriel told you two that! And Astoria is also a Greengrass!” argued Harry, looking a bit frantic.

That was also a good point. Maybe a better one.

“That’s true,” said Ron, nodding.

Hermione tightened her lips in a fine line, still unconvinced.

“Well, I’ve got to investigate this, so I’ll go there after lunch and see what I can find,” declared Ron. They ordered and ate rather quickly. Once they were done, they paid and got out of the pub.

“Remember, constant vigilance,” said Harry. “Call for reinforcements at the first sign of danger.”

Ron nodded. “I’ve got my coin with me, don’t worry.”

“Good,” said Harry.

Hermione got on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. “See you later, okay? Be careful,” she whispered to him.

Ron nodded and then Disapparated to Wiltshire once more, this time Apparating just in front of the gates to Malfoy Manor. Just the sight of them caused a shiver to run down his spine. He had wished to never have to come back here, and, until now, he had been lucky.

No longer, however.

Knowing he couldn’t postpone this forever and that, in fact, time was of the essence, he approached the gates. At once, the iron bars twisted into a face, though, this time, it spoke with a much gentler voice than back then.

“Who is it?”

“Ronald Weasley, from the Auror Office.”

“Come in, please,” the voice said, and the gates opened.

Ron walked quickly towards the front door of the impressive manor. The doors opened before he reached them, and Draco Malfoy appeared on the door.

“Weasley,” he said, in a voice that, if not kind, was at least devoid of its old contempt.

“Malfoy.”

“Are you here because of the attack on my wife?”

“Yeah.”

Draco nodded and motioned for him to enter. Ron stood still for a moment and then, swallowing the lump in his throat, walked in.

“I didn’t expect you, to be honest,” said Malfoy conversationally as he guided Ron along a corridor.

“There was no one else available,” grunted Ron, and then added, “Believe me, I didn’t ask to come here.”

“Yes, I imagine,” replied Malfoy stiffly. To Ron’s relief, they passed the door that led to the drawing room where Harry, Hermione and he had been brought six years ago. Malfoy seemed to notice this, as he explained, “My parents live in that wing of the house. Astoria and I live in the west one. That was my condition for staying here instead of moving out.”

Ron didn’t say anything, as he didn’t know what to make of such a declaration. Frankly, he didn’t care very much about Malfoy’s problems with his parents, but certainly he was glad not to go back to that room.

They took a turn to the left and walked along another corridor until they arrived at another, smaller, but also cosier and more illuminated living room. It was still too austere and aristocratic for Ron’s tastes, but it seemed warmer and more familiar. A tall, though rather thin and pale looking woman with dark hair and big, green eyes, was sitting on one of the couches, reading a book, a steaming mug on the table in front of her. She lifted her eyes from the pages when she heard them approaching.

“Good afternoon,” she said, smiling friendly, something Ron wouldn’t have ever expected from a Malfoy. Though, of course, she wasn’t really a Malfoy. In fact, she had some resemblance to Calista Nott, which was not unexpected; after all, she was also a Greengrass. Astoria looked much livelier, however. “I didn’t expect you so early.”

Ron just shrugged, feeling uncomfortable despite her welcoming attitude. “In cases like yours, time is always an important factor,” he explained, trying to sound professional.

“Please, sit down,” she asked, indicating the sofa just in front of her. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Wine? Butterbeer? Pumpkin juice?”

Ron shook his head, though he did sit down. Draco also took a seat next to his wife, grasping her hand in his with affection, a gesture he had never expected to see coming from him.

“Look, Weasley, I know our history is not good, and I’m the one to blame the most for that. I know we’re not friends and certainly I won’t be inviting you for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron if I see you, but I want to thank you for coming here for Astoria. She’s the most important thing in the world to me, and I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

Ron watched him as he talked, searching for signs of lies and deception, but he found none. He really seemed to love her. She smiled up at him.

“I am an Auror. This is my job,” Ron said simply.

“Sorry, Draco is a bit overprotective,” said Astoria in an almost apologetic tone. “I told him I was all right. I managed to defend myself from that man, but he insisted I filed the complaint.”

“The Malfoys have made quite a few enemies along the years,” said Draco. “In both sides. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened to you due to my actions or those of my parents.”

“I knew that when I married you,” said Astoria, in a tone that indicated this was not the first time they had this discussion. “And we’re boring Auror Weasley here. I’m sure he’d rather be anywhere else than here hearing us.”

 _Anywhere else, yeah_ , agreed Ron.

“Can you tell me what you remember of the attack? Add every detail you can,” asked Ron, taking out the file and enlarging it.

“Well, I went to Diagon Alley, like almost every Tuesday. Usually there are less people, which means less stares.”

“Does many people know about that routine of yours?” asked Ron.

Astoria shrugged. “My family, Draco’s, and I suppose others that frequent Diagon Alley.”

Ron nodded. “Continue.”

“I needed to take out money so I went to Gringotts. I was in the stairs when I saw something from the corner of my eye. I dodged the spell aimed at me for inches, though I fell on my back. Then I saw him. Though he was covered in a long cloak and wearing a hood over his head, I know it was a man, due to his size and body shape. He shot another spell at me, but I managed to deflect it. Then he shouted, ‘You’re coming with me, you Greengrass bitch!’ and jumped towards me. I shot a Stunning Spell at him, which caught him a bit by surprise, though he protected himself. However, I quickly shot another curse that went through his Shield Charm and knocked him off his feet. That’s when Harry Potter and the other Auror came running and, seeing them, he Disapparated,” finished Astoria, and took a sip of her mug.

“Let me tell you that you managed quite well. It’s hard to defend yourself when you’re attacked by surprise.”

Astoria smiled, though it was a sad smile.

“Well, I’m rather good at magic, Auror Weasley. It’s something I owe to Arcante Greengrass, one of my ancestors, the great-great-grandfather of my grandfather. He was a Dark Wizard, and a very powerful one. However, he dreamed with more and more power, and so he did a series of experiments on himself and his wife. But it was really dangerous and advanced magic and it turned out becoming a curse. He died as a result of it, consumed by his own power, but it didn’t stop there, and passed it to his bloodline. You might have heard that the Greengrass have poor health, and that’s true. As you can tell, I don’t look very healthy. Physically, I’m rather weak. That was one of the reasons Draco’s parents didn’t want him to marry me. They feared I wouldn’t give him a child, meaning the end of the Malfoy line.”

Ron just nodded, wondering why the hell she was telling him that. Then it occurred to him that she might not have many friends, and maybe she just liked to talk to someone new.

“The curse runs in the blood of all descendants of Arcante, though it’s also linked to our family name, so, fortunately, it won’t affect my children, if I have them. Arcante didn’t want the power he was seeking to spread to other families which is rather sexist, if you want my opinion, but well, he was an arsehole, so no surprise there. In any case, the curse, if it manifests, can make our magic much more powerful, but can also render us fragile and prone to illness. Some of us don’t seem to be affected by the curse, like my sister. She neither is weak neither is her magic as strong as mine. Others, the most, only get the weakness. A very, very few lucky ones along the years have only got the powerful magic.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling, to his surprise, a bit of pity for Astoria. She really seemed nice. He took his time writing what she had told him in the report, omitting the story about the curse. When he finished, he lifted his head and told her, “In the report Aurors Potter and Chowks wrote yesterday there’s nothing about what the man that attacked you told you.”

“Yes, I know. In that moment I think I didn’t really acknowledge it, I was a bit in shock, after all. But I remembered afterwards. Those words are the reason why we believe he was trying to abduct me. I’m sure he only wanted to get money out of this, but Draco fears it might be something more sinister.”

“The way you say it, Astoria, looks like that man really hated you.”

“If that’s the case, he said ‘Astoria Greengrass,’ Draco, so it might not have anything to do with you.”

Ron leaned against the back of the couch, deep in thought. Harry’s theory seemed more and more plausible. “You both may be right.”

They both looked at Ron. “Really?” said Draco.

“Mrs Malfoy —”

“Astoria, please,” she pleaded. “When you call me that it feels like you’re talking to Narcissa.”

“Right. Astoria, do you know Amadeus Nott?”

“Theo’s uncle?” asked Malfoy, frowning.

“Yeah.”

“No, I don’t,” denied Astoria.

“I do,” declared Draco. “I remember him from when I used to go to the Notts to play with Theo when I was a child. I haven’t seen him in years, though. Do you think it was him? Just like that?” he asked, his expression a mixture between awe and disbelief.

“We’ve got reasons to think he might be the one responsible, yes. Due to what happened to his daughter.”

“Isabelle?” asked Draco. “You’re insinuating he thinks we’ve got something to do with what happened to her?” he inquired, now on the defensive. “Because I tell you, right now, that that’s not true! I know my record is far from clean, Weasley, but I’ve done nothing illegal or related to the Dark Arts since the end of the war! If you think that because of Goyle’s involvement, then let me inform you that I haven’t talked to him since the day of the battle. And if he’s told you otherwise, he’s lying!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, will you?” said Ron, glaring at him. “I’m not insinuating anything.” He looked at Astoria. “I find it odd that you don’t know him, though,” he said. “I mean, he’s your cousin, after all. His father married your great-aunt Martha.”

Astoria let out a sad chuckle. “Yes, I know. Look, Auror Weasley, the Greengrass might be purebloods, but we never were much into that pureblood supremacy thing. Well, I’d lie if I tell you my family didn’t support those ideas, because they did, as it benefitted them, but, since Arcante and his wife, there have been very, very few Dark wizards among us. We never supported the Dark Lord. Well, the majority of us, at least. But, for what I’ve learned over the years, my great-aunt Martha was indeed a pureblood fanatic. My grandfather had a tense relationship with her due to that. When she married Anticus Nott, I think they practically stopped talking. Of course, these are rumours, things you hear at dinners and behind closed doors. I never met my grandfather, he died before I was born.”

Ron nodded, feeling frustrated. If the Greengrasses and the Notts had no relationship, it was unlikely they would know about the secret children. This was another clue that just dissolved into the air. He let out a sigh.

“In any case, why would Amadeus Nott think Astoria might be behind what happened to his daughter?” asked Draco. “And what does it have to do with Goyle?”

“Whoever is behind the attack on Isabelle Fawley knows secrets about the Notts, secrets only people very close to them could know.” He looked at Astoria again. “But if no one in your family was close to them, then I don’t get why he would attack you. Maybe it was not Amadeus after all. Maybe you’re right and it was just an attempt to get money.”

“Well, now that you say that, there was a person in my family close to the Notts, apart from my great-aunt,” said Astoria.

“Really? Who?” asked Ron, leaning forwards with interest.

“My uncle Gerion. My father’s older brother. From what I’ve heard, he was close to our great-aunt Martha, though that’s all I know.”

“Gerion, you say?” asked Ron, excited. Astoria nodded.

_Gerion. Gerion Greengrass._

_GG._

A shiver went down Ron’s spine. Could this be it? Could he have found the name of the person behind all this?

“That uncle of yours — where does he live?” Ron asked.

At this question, Astoria’s face turned apologetic, almost sympathetic. “For what I know, in a prison in France.”

“A prison in France?” asked Ron, disheartened.

Astoria nodded. “Yes. He was accused of murder, many years ago, before my birthday, and sentenced to life imprisonment. Father never talks about him, so I don’t know much.”

“Fuck,” muttered Ron, unable to restrain himself. Why whenever he thought he had a hold onto a thread leading to the truth, it vanished from between his fingers? In any case, this was the only clue he might have, so he asked, “Is there someone that could tell me more about him? Or show me a photograph?”

“I can ask Daphne. I think she knows more about these family stories. I never cared much, to be honest.”

“Can you? Right now?”

She looked towards Draco. He nodded and got up, walked towards the fireplace and, throwing a bit of Floo powder into the flames, muttered “Greengrass Place!” and buried his face in the flames. He stayed in there for a bit and then got out and straightened up, brushing his robes. “She’ll be here soon.”

They waited, in a tense silence in which only Astoria seemed to be comfortable, until, after ten minutes that lasted for about a year, the fireplace roared again and Daphne stepped out. She stood in front of the fireplace, cleaning her pristine robes and throwing her long, dark hair to her back with a quick, graceful movement of her head. Ron observed her, noticing that she certainly looked healthier than Astoria. Was rather hot, in fact, he realised, noticing the way her full breasts strained the front on her fitting robes.

When she considered herself presentable, she looked around, her eyes landing on Ron.

“Weasley?” she asked in obvious surprise. “I can swear that this is the latest place where I’d expect to see you,” she commented haughtily. She looked at Astoria questioningly. “What’s this, Tori? What’s he doing here? And why did you want me to bring a photograph of Gerion?”

“Auror Weasley is investigating the attack I suffered yesterday,” responded Astoria. “He thinks it might be related to the Notts, and Great Aunt Martha and Uncle Gerion were the only ones close to them.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes. “But we never met them. Martha died many years before our births, and Gerion was imprisoned a few or so afterwards.”

“What do you know about your uncle?” asked Ron.

Daphne looked at him in the same way she would at a stain of dirt in her shoes, but Ron held her gaze unflinchingly. Yes, Daphne was hotter, but he definitely liked Astoria a million times better.

“I’m not very comfortable talking about my family with you of all people, Weasley.”

“And usually I’d feel the same, but this is a criminal investigation, _Daphne_ ,” Ron explained, mocking her. “There are lives at stake.”

“Come on, Daph, be nice,” pleaded Astoria in a mild scolding tone.

Daphne watched Ron for a bit, as if weighing her options, and then sat down next to her sister. “I don’t know much,” she started. “Father and Mother never talk about him. He drifted away after Gerion finished at Hogwarts. He had always been closer to Great Aunt Martha, even visiting her at Nott Mansion. But our father didn’t like that, and it was a frequent reason for rows between them. Granddad feared he would follow on her steps and fall under the influence of the Notts. However, for what I gather, his attempts to keep him away from them had the opposite effect. In fact, when he finished school, he went to live with them for a while. That caused a really big row between him and Grandad and after that they never talked again.”

“How do you know all that?” asked Astoria, a bit surprised.

“I asked Father once,” Daphne answered. “He didn’t want to talk about it, I think it still hurts him, but he ended up telling me.” She made a brief pause and then looked at Ron again. “Father told me that Grandad was sure Anticus would convince Gerion to join the Death Eaters, though, whatever that ended being true or not, they never knew for sure. After a couple of years living with the Notts, he began to travel out of the country, spending long periods of time in France, though Father didn’t know why. In hindsight, he thinks he was probably trying to extend the Dark Lord’s influence on Europe. Anyway, in one of those travels, many years later, he was arrested, accused of killing a wizard in a duel and sentenced to life imprisonment.”

Ron listened to her, nodding slowly. “No one from your family went to visit him in prison?”

“No,” denied Daphne. Father says that Grandad didn’t want to talk about him at all. In fact, they had barely talked to him or seen him since he finished at Hogwarts. Grandad, who by then was already weak and ill, died barely a year later. Father always blamed Gerion for that, saying that Grandad could have lived longer if he hadn’t had a son who had broken his heart.”

Ron nodded slowly, taking the sad story in.

“Can I see that photograph you brought? Because you brought it, right?” he asked after a moment.

Daphne nodded, though quite reluctantly, and, after extracting it from one of her pockets, passed it to him. Ron took it and watched it. It showed a young man of around seventeen and a child of about nine or ten, standing in front of a lake in a beautiful, sunny day. There was an obvious resemblance between them, as both had the same dark hair and straight nose, though that’s where the similarities ended. While the child looked small and even weak, the boy was strong and well-built. He had an arm over his brother’s shoulders, showing an affection that, for what Daphne had told him, wouldn’t last. Ron turned the photo and saw an inscription in there.

_Darius and Gerion, Blagdon Lake, July 1956_

Ron turned the photograph again and took another look at the image. He studied Gerion’s square face more carefully, realising he reminded him, albeit slightly, of another man, though this one was blonde. The guy Harry and he had seen with Goyle.

“Does Gerion have any family?” asked Ron.

Daphne shook her head. “No. He never married.”

Ron looked at the photo once more, deep in thought. He had the feeling that there was something here, even if the pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit completely. He was going to have to look more into this.

He passed the photo back to Daphne.

“Do you know where he used to live, before going to prison?” asked Ron.

Daphne shook her head. “No. I could ask Father, though.”

“Do that. And send the address to me at the Ministry of Magic. We’re going to investigate all this,” he told Astoria. “Meanwhile, I advise you not to leave this mansion. I extend that recommendation to you as well,” he added, looking at Daphne. “And to your parents. If you really need to go out, be very careful.”

“What?” she asked, frowning. “You think we’re in danger?”

“I’m not sure, but better safe than sorry. I’ll keep you informed,” he said as he got up. He looked at Draco. “Can I use your Floo connection?”

Draco got up and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Ron shrunk the report and put it back in his pocket, then walked towards the fireplace and took some Floo powder.

“Auror Weasley, thank you,” said Astoria with sincerity.

“Yeah, thanks,” added Draco.

Ron nodded at them and stepped into the fire, emerging in the Atrium a moment later. He stood in there for a bit, thinking about what to do. What he had heard about Gerion looked promising, though if he was in prison … He moved towards the fountain, walking aimlessly, deep in thought. Could the blonde guy be related to Gerion? But, why would he attack the Notts, if Gerion had been closer to them than his own family?

He needed to know more, so he changed direction and ran towards the lifts, taking one to Level Two. He bolted out of the lift and hurried towards the Auror Office, almost running over an old wizard who sent him a few choice words. Ron yelled a ‘Sorry!’ over his shoulder but didn’t stop.

“Where’s Gallory?” he asked Katie Bell, after checking he was not in his office.

“In a reunion with the Minister, I think,” she answered. “Are you okay, Ron? Did something happen?”

“No, no. Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

Not giving her time to respond, he marched towards the Legal Office.

“Is Hermione in there?” he asked Milton. He received a nod for response and, before the assistant could say anything else, he burst through the door. Hermione was bent over a book and almost jumped on her chair when the door slammed into the wall.

“RON!” she yelled, putting a hand to her chest. “You can’t just walk into my —” she stopped herself. “Are you okay? Did something happen at the Malfoys’?” she asked with concern, her previous annoyance forgotten, as she got and rounded her desk to approach him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for that, I —” he noticed Milton on the doorframe, looking into the office.

“It’s okay, Milton,” said Hermione. “Close the door, please.”

Milton nodded and did as told, leaving them alone.

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and pulled him towards the small settee, gently forcing him to sit down. “What happened?”

Ron relayed quickly everything he had discovered to her. When he finished, Hermione bit her bottom lip. “You’re right, this looks promising, but, if he’s in prison …”

“I wanted to tell this to Gallory and Ada. He might bite my head off, but, if the victims are in danger of dying we’ve got no time to lose. However, he’s in a meeting with Kingsley. What I’d like is to talk to this Gerion bloke. Even if he’s in prison, he might know who’s behind this, and why.”

“Then let’s do that,” said Hermione, determined.

“Did you hear the bit about him being in a prison in France?”

Hermione smiled at him, rather smugly. “And when have such things been able to stop me?” she said, getting up. “Come with me.”

She pulled on his hand, forcing him to stand up, and then she marched from her office with him in tow.

“Milton, I’m going to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I’ll be back soon, I hope.”

“Okay, Ms Granger.”

“The Department of —?” started to ask Ron, confused.

“Fleur was not the only French witch I talked about when preparing the Equality Law, Ron. I’ve got contacts in the French Ministry.”

“Really?” Ron asked, grinning at her.

“Really.”

“You’re certainly amazing,” Ron commented, making her blush a bit.

Once they were in the Department, Hermione directed them towards an office and knocked.

“Come in,” said a male voice.

Hermione opened the door and walked in, followed by Ron. The office occupant, a tall man that Ron knew by sight, got up and smiled at them. “Hermione,” he said, before moving his eyes to Ron. “And Ron Weasley. To what do I owe this visit?”

“Hi, Marcus. Sorry for interrupting you.” She looked at Ron. “Ron, this is Marcus Wort. He is the Liaison for Legal Affairs with other European countries, and has contacts in almost all Ministries.”

Ron nodded and shook the man’s hand.

“Marcus, as you know Ron’s an Auror, and he’s following a clue that leads to a British wizard that was imprisoned in France long ago. We’d like to talk to him, as soon as possible.”

Marcus listened to her attentively, and then nodded. “Okay. We can get in touch with Caroline Durcrois, he’s very accommodating and you already know her.”

“Yes, that might be awesome. She was really kind and helpful.”

“In any case, she might need an official request.”

“Yes, I had already thought about that. I’ll write one if necessary.”

“What’s the name of the prisoner? Since 1948, we are informed of any citizen of Magical Britain accused of a crime in another country.”

“Really?” asked Ron.

Marcus nodded. “Yes. In fact, as an Auror you have access to them. We always deliver a copy to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But well, as you’re here, we can take a look at our copy.”

“Good. Thank you,” said Ron, a bit dumbfounded.

“Follow me.”

They exited Marcus office, and he led them to a corridor full of doors. He opened one of them and they entered a large room full of filing cabinets. Marcus examined them, reading the little labels, until he found what he was searching and opened a drawer.

“The name, please?”

“Gerion Greengrass.”

Marcus nodded and looked through the folders until he found the one he wanted and took it out.

“Here it is. Gerion Bertrand Greengrass, born in 1939 …” He opened the folder. Ron watched his eyes move over the parchments inside. “Yes, he was arrested on his flat in Paris on the 17th of February, 1973, accused of killing Jacques Dodelier. He was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment in a trial that took place on the 26th of that same February, and sent to the Castle of Almeigne,” he informed them. “Well, with this we can now —” he started to say, but then interrupted himself and said instead, “Wait a moment.”

“What?” asked Ron.

“He was released almost a year ago.”

“WHAT!?” asked Ron, his heart beating furiously. “Really? But — wasn’t he sentenced to life imprisonment?”

“Apparently he asked for a revision, and due to good behaviour and the fact that his sentence was considered too harsh, he was freed.”

“Too harsh?” repeated Ron. “But he killed a man.”

“If it happened during a duel, as Daphne told you, it’s not the same as killing in cold blood or deliberately,” explained Hermione. “In any case, if he’s free …”

“He really might be the one behind this,” finished Ron. Hermione nodded.

“Thank you so much,” said Ron, shaking Marcus’s hand once more. “You helped me loads.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Marcus, smiling.

After saying goodbye to him, Ron and Hermione went to the lifts area.

“And what are you going to do now?” asked Hermione. “You don’t know where he lived, do you?”

“No, but I know who does,” he told her. “The Notts. I know they refused to tell us anything yesterday, but now we’ve got much more information.”

“And I’ll write you a warrant so they can’t refuse you to talk to anyone,” said Hermione. “Let’s go back down for a moment.”

Ron nodded and they took another lift. Back in the Auror Office, they checked Ada’s cubicle and Gallory’s office, but they were still empty.

“We’ll talk to them later,” said Hermione. “Let’s go to my office.”

“Ms Granger,” said Milton as soon as he saw them. “Bernard Fosscault was here a moment ago. He —”

“Later, Milton, please,” Hermione cut him in. “I’m in a hurry.”

Ron and Hermione entered her office and she looked for some parchment. She began to write on it quickly, though with practised ease. Barely five minutes later, she stamped an official seal on it.

“Ready,” she said. “Let’s go?”

Ron frowned. “What do you mean, ‘let’s go’?”

“I mean that I’m going with you.”

“Hermione, you can’t come with me to a mission, you —”

“But this is not a mission, isn’t it?” she countered. “I’m going as an official from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to require the necessary information to prevent a crime. In fact, _you_ are accompanying _me_ ,” she stated, giving him a smug smile. “For my security.”

Ron scoffed. “As if you couldn’t hex them into next century, if one tried to attack you.”

She gave him a cocked smile. “I could, but well, I didn’t undergo Auror training after all. Now, should we?”

Ron nodded. They went back to the Atrium and, from there, Disapparated to Nott House. Hermione took a look around after they materialised.

“Nicer than the Malfoys’” she commented.

“Well, it doesn’t look so ominous now. Draco and Astoria have their own part of the house, and it looks warmer.”

“Really?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah. Astoria’s touch, I reckon. She’s rather nice, for a Slytherin.”

“Daphne was rather stuck-up,” pointed Hermione.

“She still is,” confirmed Ron. “Let’s go in.”

Hermione nodded, and they approached the gates. She took out the parchment and lifted it. “Ministry of Magic. I require immediate entrance,” she commanded, in a voice full of authority and which didn’t admit a reply. Despite the situation, Ron got a bit turned on observing her.

The gates opened at once, and they moved towards the main doors. Just like the day before, they opened to reveal Theo Nott.

“Weasley,” he said wearily. “And Granger as well this time,” he added, with the slightest trace of disgust.

“Can I go in, Mr Nott, or will my presence contaminate your house?” she asked harshly.

“You can come in,” he responded, moving to the side.

“I was going to anyway,” she said as she stepped into the house, “but I like to be polite.”

Nott screwed his face at her words, and Ron had to supress a desire to laugh.

“We want to talk to your aunt,” Ron told him. “Is she home?”

“She is. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Everyone is acting even more strangely than these past days, which is saying something, and I’m tired of asking and not getting answers.”

“You don’t know?” asked Ron.

“No.”

“Why are you here, Theodore?” asked Hermione. “It’s not because your family wants to be together due to your cousin, isn’t it?”

Theodore stared at her, clearly pondering whether he should say the truth or not. “No,” he responded after a bit. “My grandfather told me we were in danger a few days after Isabelle was attacked. But no one explained me anything and I’m sick of it.”

“Does the name Gerion Greengrass mean anything to you?”

Theodore blinked, looking at her. “I remember it from our family tree. He was a cousin of my father’s, I think,” he responded. “Why?”

“We need to talk to your aunt and your grandfather,” was Hermione’s curt reply. “And today, we’re not taking a no for an answer.”

“She is acting the strangest of them all,” said Nott. “My uncle told us that that Mud — Muggleborn,” he corrected himself quickly, “had died and that Isabelle was worse, and then she just left the room. Haven’t seen her since.”

“Call her,” demanded Hermione. “Maybe it’s time you know.”

Theo, looking somewhat taken aback and more than a bit intrigued, led them towards the same drawing room, and then went to fetch his aunt. Ron and Hermione sat down on one of the couches.

“He knows nothing,” whispered Hermione.

“Yeah. They kept their secret well hidden. I wonder how Gerion found out, if we’re right about him.”

Hermione nodded.

The minutes went on, and Ron started getting antsy. “You don’t think they ran away, do you?” he asked Hermione.

“Where to? We’re in their house, after all,” said Hermione. “But if they —”

Her sentence was left unfinished as a door opened, and then Calista Nott walked in, followed by Theodore. She looked tired, distraught and seemed to have aged at least ten years since the day before.

“What are you doing here again, Auror Weasley?” asked Calista, her voice weary and full of sadness. “And with Hermione Granger no less. Why don’t you do us a favour and leave us alone?” she asked with a slightly trembling voice.

“Was it worth it, Ms Nott?” asked Ron, perhaps a bit too harshly.

“What are you talking about?”

“We told you we’d get to the truth,” replied Ron. “We know about Gerion Greengrass,” he blurted out, and Calista couldn’t dissimulate the surprise on her face. “But now it’s too late, isn’t it? Your son is already dead.”

Calista didn’t say anything, but her expression flickered, allowing them to see the deep pain underneath before she looked away.

“What!?” exclaimed Theodore, his eyes moving between his aunt and Ron and Hermione. “What are you talking about? What son? My Aunt does not have any son.”

“Theo, leave us alone, please,” Calista asked, her voice authoritarian despite being laced with obvious pain.

“No!” Theodore replied angrily. “I’m tired of this! Grandad told me to come home after that Muggleborn was attacked, telling me that our family was in danger and that we’d be safer here, but none of you explained why and I’m sick of it! What’s what you’re hiding? What’s really happening?”

Ron and Hermione observed Calista, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. “Theodore, please, forget about this. There’s —"

“STOP IT!” yelled Ron, tired of this game. “Your son is dead! Dead! And your niece could go the same way at any moment! Stop lying!”

“Ron,” said Hermione in a calming voice, and he shut up, huffing in exasperation.

“Ms Nott, please,” she begged in her kindest tone. “How many lives is this secret worth? Put an end to it, please. Tell us the truth.”

Calista lowered her face, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Yet she still resisted, not saying anything.

“Your son died for this,” insisted Hermione. “Was the reputation of your family worth it? Was it worth living without him, not seeing him grow up?”

“I only wanted to — to p-protect him!” Calista exclaimed at last, dropping onto the couch in front of Ron and Hermione and breaking into sobs. “Gordon was a M-Muggle and, having a son of a — a Muggle in t-those t-times … You don’t know how that was! When F-Father found out he convinced me it was the best, for him and — and for the f-family,” she explained between tears.

“Fucking Merlin …” exclaimed Theodore, his eyes as wide as saucers. “So, it’s true? You really had a son with a _Muggle_? And grandad knew? What about my father? Did he know about this?”

“No,” said Calista, now looking completely defeated. “He didn’t live here by then, and we hid my pregnancy. Amadeus knew, though, but he kept the secret as well.”

“But your cousin Gerion knew about it, didn’t he? How?” asked Ron.

Calista nodded slowly. “He was closer to us than to his own family. He was the favourite nephew of my mother, and my father trusted him completely. He was very intelligent and resourceful, and quite powerful at magic, so Father asked him to take care of the child, to get him adopted by a Muggle family. We couldn’t trust any magical family to do so. Father told me it was better if I didn’t know about the details, but I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing. So I talked to him, and told him I wanted my son to have my Grandfather’s name as a surname, as I had great memories of him. I also wanted him to grow with parents that would consider him their own blood. If one thing was ingrained in us Notts, was the importance of family and blood, and I wanted that for John. I wanted him to be loved and cherished. And Gerion complied. He found about a couple that had just died in a car accident, and he put a powerful spell on the woman’s brother and his wife.”

“The Smiths,” said Hermione.

“Yes. He made them believe John was the son of the dead couple, though in reality they had no children. He also altered their knowledge of the dead man’s surname, so they believed it was Malbard. He also took care of the Muggle documents. This way, the Smiths would believe the child was their nephew.”

So that was how it had been done, thought Ron, nodding. And though he was horrified by the story and how far they had gone to hide the child, he was also impressed with Gerion’s work.

“That is pretty powerful magic,” commented Hermione, voicing his own thoughts.

“I told you, Gerion was a very powerful wizard,” said Calista. “The Greengrasses suffer a curse that usually makes then weak and ill-prone, though it also can enhance their magic, consequence of a curse that started with an ancestor of theirs. I remember that my mother looked ill all her life, despite her energic character. But Gerion was blessed. He didn’t suffer the ill effects of the curse,but was blessed with really powerful magic.”

“So it’s definitively him, isn’t it?” he asked. “Gerion, I mean. He’s the one threatening you.”

Calista nodded. “We suspected, the moment Isabelle was found with those letters on her forehead, that it had to be him. Or someone on his name, because, as surely you already know, he was sentenced to life imprisonment in France for killing another wizard in a duel. However, when — when John was attacked, Father deduced he might have escaped, although we had not heard anything about it.”

“He didn’t escape,” said Hermione. “He was released on good behaviour.”

Calista seemed surprised by this. “Really?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, a year ago.”

Calista remained silent for a bit, looking thoughtful, before continuing with her story. “Anyway, after we knew about John and believing that he was back in the country, Father asked the entire family to come here. Your friend was right about that: this house is ancestral and holds powerful magic that protects our family. The only kind of magic, he knew, that could stop a wizard as powerful as Gerion.”

“But you didn’t bother to tell me the truth!” yelled Theodore angrily, reminding everyone that he was still in the room. “You practically forced me to leave my flat and come back here! And all because you had an affair with a _Muggle_? I still can believe that, after everything I was told in this house! My father is in prison for fighting for our rights, and meanwhile you were whoring yourself to a Muggle!” he spat. Ron and Hermione gasped, but Calista’s reaction was much harsher. She took out her wand, there was a flash, and Theodore’s face was suddenly turned to one side, a red mark appearing on his left cheek.

“Fuck!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again!” she yelled angrily. “I loved him!” she added, defending herself — perhaps for the first time in her life. “The months I was with him were the happiest of my life! The happiest! But I was a coward. A stupid, idiotic coward, and when Father found out what I had done I gave it all up for the sake of the family! For the Notts are an old pureblood family that couldn’t afford to mix themselves with Muggles, and much less being in love with them, especially not when we were in league with the Dark Lord,” she said bitterly. “So I complied to Father’s demands, believing him when he talked about how sometimes sacrifices were necessary, as if he could know what he was talking about,” she added bitterly. “And I renounced to my own happiness, to everything I had and was. I was a coward then and lost myself. And now, so many years later, I finally p-paid for it and lost my only son definitively … M-my only s-son …” she finished, and hugged herself while her body rocked due to the violence of her sobs.

Theodore moved towards the fireplace and put both hands on the mantelpiece, using it to support himself as he watched the flames. He shook his head, still too shocked.

Hermione, who was watching Calista with sympathy, got up, moved towards her and, sitting next to her, put a comforting arm around her, caressing her back soothingly. Calista seemed to flinch a bit, startled by the touch, but then relaxed into Hermione. Ron felt a burst of love for his fiancé. She _had_ to be appalled by the fact that someone had abandoned their child in such a way, and yet there she was, comforting her. She had such an immense, caring heart.

“Why don’t you drink some tea?” suggested Hermione gently. “It’ll help you calm down.” Calista just nodded, still sobbing silently. Hermione looked up at Theodore. “Theo, why don’t you bring your aunt some tea?”

Theodore turned round, his cheek still reddened. At first, Ron was sure he was going to say something rude, and his mouth twitched a bit, but then he seemed to change his mind. “Pokey.”

An instant later, an old elf Apparated before him and bowed.

“Sir called for Pokey?”

“Bring my aunt some tea, and some Firewhiskey to me,” he ordered.

“ _Please_ ,” added Hermione, glaring at Theo.

Theodore’s lips tightened into a very fine line, but he ended up adding, “Please.”

Pokey bowed again and Disapparated.

“So you don’t know anything about Robert Notte?” asked Ron, resuming their talk.

“I only know what I told you yesterday. He’s a Muggle, the father of the first victim.”

“And don’t you wonder why Gerion attacked her, if his target was your family?”

“Father said that it was a hidden message,” explained Calista, brushing her eyes. “That he had attacked her because of the similarities between our surnames, so when he attacked Isabelle we would know, without a doubt, that he was after us, even though the Ministry might not find a connection. But I’m not sure I believe it.”

“You shouldn’t,” said Hermione, getting up and moving back next to Ron. In that moment, Pokey reappeared with a tray. She gave Calista a steaming mug and made a bottle and a glass float towards Theodore, who immediately poured himself a good amount.

“T-thank you, Pokey,” said Calista, her voice hoarse. Pokey made another bow and Disapparated once more. Calista took a sip and looked at Hermione questioningly. “Why did you say I shouldn’t?”

“Ms Nott, Robert Notte was abandoned in an orphanage in Southampton, in the middle of the night. The entire building was closed when it happened. It’s obvious he was left in there by a wizard or a witch, and we think it was because he wasn’t really a Muggle. We’re rather sure he was a squib.”

Calista almost dropped the mug she was holding. Some drops of tea spilled out and onto the table, but she didn’t seem to notice. “What — what are you trying to tell me?”

“We are almost sure that Robert Notte was your older brother.”

Theo’s glass fell to the floor, exploding in thousands of pieces. The Firewhiskey stained his shoes.

“ _What!?_ ” he exclaimed, whipping around. “A _squib_? How much dirt do you think you can throw over my family, Granger?”

“Well, that’s what you grandfather must have thought, I imagine,” replied Hermione dryly. “That having a squib son sullied the name of your family or some other bullshit like that, and they decided to get rid of it and tell everyone the baby had died. But why don’t you bring him here and we get to the bottom of it?”

“I knew about my older brother, of course,” said Calista, “though Mother didn’t like to talk about him. We were told he died when he was only a few months old, so it was understandable. It’s hard to believe what you tell me, Ms Granger.”

“’Sometimes sacrifices are necessary,’ isn’t it?” repeated Hermione. “I suppose that, in the end, he _really_ knew what he was talking about when he said that.”

Calista looked at Theo. “Go and fetch your grandfather,” she told him. Theo held her gaze for a moment, as if pondering whether to obey, but in then end left the room.

“Even if what you’re saying is true, I don’t know how Gerion could have known.”

“Well, you told us your father trusted him completely.”

“But when my brother died Gerion was just a child.”

“Tell us about him,” asked Ron. “I talked to Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, but they do not know much about them.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” agreed Calista. “My mother didn’t have a good relationship with his brother, Bertrand, or her parents. She used to call them cowardly hypocrites, saying that they had no qualms in enjoying the advantages of pureblood supremacy, but wouldn’t move a finger to fight for it. Gerion, however, was different. I was still a child when he finished Hogwarts, but even before he used to come here in the summers and play with me and spend time with Mother. Uncle Bertrand didn’t like that, though, and they used to row about it. In the end it culminated in a big fight and they parted ways definitively. Gerion left his house and came to live here, until he started going to France for long periods of time a couple of years later.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ron, frowning. “He was closer to you than his own family, so why would he want to attack you?”

“That’s what I asked Father, and he said he didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth before, but, after what you’ve told me, I definitely don’t believe him now.”

“So he hasn’t demanded anything? He didn’t get in contact with you?” inquired Hermione.

“No,” denied Calista. “As I told you, we weren’t even completely sure he was —” Her sentence was interrupted by Theodore coming back, alone. Calista looked at him. “It was about time. Where’s Father?”

“He wasn’t in his room, so I asked Pokey. He was with Uncle Amadeus when he received a letter about ten minutes ago. I went in search of them, but I only found this,” he explained, showing them a piece of parchment.

Calista took and read it. Though it looked impossible, her face paled even more. “They’ve gone to confront him,” she told Ron and Hermione.

Ron quickly summoned the parchment and showed it to Hermione so they could read it together.

_One down, two about to fall._

_It’s time we put an end to this game._

_You know where I am._

“Fuck!” exclaimed Ron, getting up. “We need to go!”

“They’ll take care of him,” said Theodore arrogantly. “My grandfather is still a powerful wizard, Weasley. And Uncle Amadeus — well, he’s not bad.”

“He couldn’t event manage to overpower Astoria attacking by surprise, and, by what your aunt said, Gerion is much more powerful!” yelled Ron.

“What are you —?” asked Theodore, frowning.

“Even so, he’s alone,” Calista cut in. “And yes, my father was powerful as well. He learned loads of Dark magic with the Dark Lord.”

“But he’s not alone!” shouted Ron.

“What do you mean? You caught that man, Goyle … he was his accomplice, wasn’t he?”

“We don’t know what Goyle’s role is, but there’re more people involved! This,” he pointed at the parchment, “is obviously a trap! Fuck!” he swore, pacing the room. “Where have they gone? Do you know?” he demanded.

“The only place that comes to my mind is Gerion’s old place. Father bought it for him as gift the first time he went to France. Although he’s already gone there and it is abandoned.”

“I’ve got a feeling today it won’t be. Where is it?”

“Gerion called it _Green Manor_ , and it’s near the White Cliffs of Dover. If I remember well, it was a large house, but not really a manor.”

“I’m going there,” declared Ron, getting to his feet.

“What!?” asked Hermione, getting up as well. “Ron, you can’t! You need preparation and —”

“There’s no time!” replied Ron. “I’ll call Harry and survey the place. You go back to the Ministry and send reinforcements.”

“Ron —”

“Hermione, I’m an Auror, I know what I’m doing,” he said in a tone as soothing as he was able to muster.

Hermione stared at him, and then, reluctantly, nodded.

“Can I use your fireplace?” asked Hermione, looking at Calista.

“Of course.”

Hermione gave Ron a hug. “Be careful, okay?”

“I’m always are,” he responded.

She gave him a quick kiss and moved towards the fireplace. Ron watched her move, and then an idea struck him.

“Hermione, wait!” he shouted, approaching her in long strides as she turned around to look at him. “Give me your wand.”

“My wand?”

“I’ll explain later.”

Hermione gave it to him and, with one last look, vanished through the fireplace. Ron, without bothering to say goodbye, bolted out of the house at top speed. The moment he was outside the gates, he Disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I really, really want to hear what you think!  
> I must say that it is not really my intention to portray Malfoy as a nice character. It’s true that he has changed, but, contrarily to what other people think, the didn’t change because he realised the error of his ways. True, he was not a murderer, but I remember that, at the beginning of HBP, he was rather proud of being a Death Eater. I always thought he was in the belief that, under Voldemort’s rule, he would be some sort of prince that would walk among the crowds with people bending to him. However, the harsh truth is that he ended being nothing but another slave, and he realised that Voldemort was as prone to kill his enemies as his followers, and without regret. So yes, that and the horrors he saw made him change, but not because he was a good person.  
> Now, I really wanted to portray Astoria as nice and friendly, less prejudiced and aristocratic-like, and someone that would have a positive influence in him.  
> Now, I don’t know if I should update this story next, instead of DO. There are only two chapters left and next one is the climax of the story. In any case, I’ll try to update quickly, but give me your feedback!


	9. It All Comes Down to Friends and Foes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron goes to Gerion Greengrass's old house in an attempt to prevent more killings and hoping to close the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, first of all, sorry for the looong delay!  
> To be honest, this chapter has been a massive challenge. I wrote it but I wasn’t happy about the main scene and ended up rewriting half the chapter after the revision, and then, when revising again, I realised I had made a big mistake, so I had to make changes and reread it again.  
> And it took ages because I started a new project in my job that I’m very enthusiastic about, so these past weeks I practically forgot about everything else and had very little time to write. That isn’t going to change in the next weeks, but I hope to deliver sooner. My plan is to publish the last chapter of this story next weekend and be done with it.  
> However, despite the delay, this is very massive 16,000+ words chapter, so well, enjoy!

When Ron Apparated, the first thing he heard was the distant sound of the sea crashing against the cliffs. He blinked a few times, as it was so cloudy that it was almost night, though it still wasn’t five yet. To the North, not very far, there was a road, and he could see the lights of two Muggle cars moving along it.

And about two hundred yards away from him, surrounded by a few trees, there was a house that once must have looked nice and inviting, but that now seemed abandoned. It was, however, the right place, as he could perceive the charms that still made it invisible to Muggles and see the glow of a light through one of the ground floor windows on the west wall.

He couldn’t see anyone outside, so Anticus and Amadeus must have got in already. Quickly, he used his Auror coin to call Harry, hoping he would bring with him some of his patrolling companions and they were in time to prevent another death.

While he waited for him, he took out his wand and checked for protections or traps, but, though this wasn’t his field of expertise, he found nothing. The house was completely unprotected, save for the charm that hid it from Muggles; something that was to be expected as Gerion wanted to meet with Anticus, not prevent him from entering.

Wanting to see what was happening in the house, he reached for his spynoculars a was lifting them to his eyes when he felt something and Harry Apparated next to him with a pop.

“Ron!” he exclaimed. “What’s up?” he asked with a worried tone, looking around in search for a hidden danger. “Where are we? Are you fighting someone?”

“Calm down, Mate,” said Ron. “No, we’re not in danger. At last for now. We’re near the old house the old house of Gerion Greengrass. That one,” he informed his friend, pointing at it. “Anticus Nott received a note from him and he and his son Amadeus came a few minutes ago.”

“Who’s Gerion Greengrass?” asked Harry, confused.

“A nephew of Martha Greengrass. Was really close to the Notts until he was imprisoned in France for killing a wizard, decades ago. But Hermione and I found he was freed about a year ago.”

“The initials!” exclaimed Harry. “GG! It’s him, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we must go in before it gets out of hand and —”

“No, we must observe first,” said Ron. “To be honest, I was expecting you to bring other Aurors with you.”

“I had already finished patrolling, so I was alone. I was about to go into The Three Broomsticks to get some take away for dinner when you called me.”

Ron grunted. “Well, I asked Hermione to send reinforcements. Let’s hope it doesn’t take them long.”

Ron and Harry ran towards the house, stopping between the trees. There they took their spynoculars and activated them. The moment he took them to his eyes, Ron saw through the walls, getting and idea of the house distribution before focusing on a large, rectangular room that must have been a sitting room, but which now was mostly empty. In the middle of it, the blonde man who they had seen at Goyle’s was pushing a rope-bound Amadeus Nott onto a chair rather roughly. Another, older man, presumably Anticus, was sitting next to him, also bound.

“Don’t touch me!” Amadeus was growling, squirming against the ropes uselessly. The blonde just punched him in the stomach, making him double over and groan in pain. A slim, yet fierce-looking woman who was standing a bit away, pointing her wand at the prisoners, laughed.

“Leave him alone!” shouted Anticus, though without true determination. He had a defeated expression on his face.

“Fuck, they’ve already captured them,” commented Ron.

“At least they are alive,” said Harry.

“Right,” agreed Ron. He studied Amadeus, who seemed to have a broken lip but, other than that, he looked fine.

“Be careful, Gèrald,” said a deep, calmed voice. “He’s family, after all.”

Ron directed his attention to a couple of armchairs next to a wall. Gerion Greengrass was sitting on one. The time spent in prison was visible on his body, yet he looked still strong, and his face showed an expression of absolute determination. He was eyeing the two Notts with the kind of eagerness one showed when they were about to get something they had been expecting for an awfully long time.

Anticus looked at the man named Gèrald with bewilderment, and for a moment it seemed he wanted to ask something, but, instead, he directed his gaze at Gerion. “Why are you doing this to us?” he asked. “We came here to talk and you attack us!”

At those words, Gerion snorted. “As if I would trust you, _Uncle_ ,” he said with derision. “Do not insult my intelligence. You didn’t come for a chat, but to fight me. Maybe to kill me. But well, that was exactly what I was expecting. If you had really wanted to talk, you would have come alone, not accompanied and trying to be stealthy. No, you two came here with the intention to overpower me and get rid of me once and for all. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t know about my son or my daughter-in-law.”

At these words, Anticus opened his eyes in shock, his gaze shifting between Gerion and the blonde man.

“Your — _your_ _son_?”

“Yes, my son,” Gerion nodded, and then got up, delighted at the surprise on his uncle’s face. “Shocked, Uncle?”

“You — you haven’t got a son!”

“Maybe we’re all hallucinating?” Gerion asked in mockery. “Because I’d say he’s right here. And I think he resembles me a bit, don’t you think?”

“But — but — how?” Anticus stammered. “I didn’t know you had a son! You never told us!”

“No, I didn’t. Something I’m rather glad bout, I must add.”

“But —” Anticus seemed completely perplexed. “When? And — who’s his mother?”

“You don’t know her,” responded Gerion. “Her name was Monique Almons, and I met her in France, a few years after I had moved there. We started dating, or something like that, around a year after I had met her.”

Anticus looked as if he was trying to remember something. “Once I asked you when you planned to fill this house and you told me that you had met a woman, but next time we saw each other you said it had come to nothing,” he commented. “Was it her?”

“Yes, that was Monique,” confirmed Gerion.

“But — why did you lie, instead of introducing her to us? Why didn’t you tell me? After all, I gave you this large house so you could have your own family!”

Gerion snorted, relishing on his uncle’s shock. “It’s rather unpleasant, when someone you used to trust deceives you, isn’t it?” he commented. “The reason, _dear_ _Uncle_ , is that I discovered she was the daughter of a Muggleborn,” he explained nonchalantly. “So — how could I tell you that? I was in France, working for you and the Dark Lord. I hardly could come here and tell you that I was dating the daughter of a Muggleborn, don’t you think? So I lied. I admit I thought about breaking it with her, but by then I had fallen in love with her, and —” He made a pause. “We found out she was pregnant. I suppose my views about Pureblood supremacy changed a bit during that time.”

“But you still kept working for me — for Him!”

“I liked what I was doing, and the power you said we would have when the Dark Lord had won. And Monique — she loved the power as well and was fascinated with the Dark Arts. We both were.” He stared off into space for a few seconds, as if reliving those times. Then he shook his head and looked back at his uncle. “By then the Dark Lord had not said anything about eradicating Muggleborns, and well, she was a half-blood after all. If I’m honest, though, I must say I thought about telling you many times, but in the end decided against it, and now I couldn’t be gladder. Who knows what would have happened to them if I had revealed their existence?”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Amadeus, outraged. “You say it as if we would have harmed them! Do I have to remind you that it’s _you_ the one who’s attacked us? US! After everything we did for you! After taking you in when your own family practically threw you out, you come back and betray us by attacking my daughter and killing Calista’s son!” he yelled angrily. “Why, you bastard? Answer me!” he demanded. “WHY!?”

At Amadeus words, Gerion’s expression hardened.

“You dare talk about betrayal?” he replied in a hissing tone, his eyes emitting fire. “You want to know why? Why don’t you ask your dear father, then? Ask him what he did to me, after everything _I_ had done for _him_! For your family!”

Amadeus, confused, glanced at his father, but Anticus just kept an emotionless expression on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gerion. I always took care of you. I gave you a place to live, fed you at my table, treated you like another son. I built this house for you and your future family, and then funded your mission in France.”

A flash of pure rage appeared in Gerion’s expression, and both Ron and Harry got ready to intervene. However, after a moment, he managed to control himself and went back to his armchair, sitting down on it, though rather stiffly.

“Don’t treat me as a fool!” he yelled, staring at his uncle with unadulterated hate. “You think I don’t know the truth?” He clenched his teeth and then looked back at Amadeus. “You say you took me in when my family disinherited me.” He snorted. “More like I fell apart with my family for being close to yours! For parroting your beliefs! I shared your views, your goals, everything! I moved to France because your father asked me to! And when your idiot sister gave birth to the child of that Muggle, it was me who took care of everything to protect the honour and the reputation of the Nott name! I found a family for him, modified memories, falsified Muggle records, and kept the secret for the sake of the family! So don’t you dare accuse me of betrayal!”

“But —”

“I haven’t finished!” Gerion shouted, silencing Amadeus. “About two years after that mess with your sister, Garrick Goyle, who had just finished Hogwarts, appears on the door of my flat, showing me his brand-new Dark Mark and telling me he had a message from the Dark Lord. He informed me we should go to an inn and wait for a contact from Eastern Europe, so there we went, and, as we waited, he said we should drink something. And the next thing I remember is waking up in my bed when the French Aurors burst into the flat to arrest me for having killed another wizard in a duel.” He made a stop and looked at Anticus with evident hate. “I had no memory of killing anyone, yet my wand was the one used, and there were countless witnesses that swore it had been me; and before I could start to understand what was happening, I was put on trial and sent to prison. And there I waited, expecting any of you to come to see me or help me in any way, but I waited in vain — no one ever came to help or to visit. And so, in the solitude of my cell, I started to think about what had happened. How had I ended in a duel with someone? And where was Goyle? Nothing had sense to me and, at last, I had to admit that the only explanation that made sense was that Goyle had done something to me. That he had put something in my drink and had framed me, probably using Polyjuice Potion to look like me. Yet, no matter how much I thought about it I couldn’t understand why he would do that. I had seen him maybe a couple of times, so he had no reason to travel to France just to frame for murder. I spent countless days pacing my cell while I thought about it, looking for some explanation. Could he have been following orders from the Dark Lord? But I had never met him in person, and by what I knew of him, he wouldn’t bother doing something so complicated to get rid of me. He would have tortured me and killed me if I had failed at something. So, with every other explanation discarded, there was just one person left that could be responsible for my fate. At first I refused to consider it, but, as time passed, it became more and more evident that had to be it.”

Gerion got up once more and began to pace the room in front of the prisoners. “Only one person knew where my flat was. Only one person knew how to contact me. The one person that should have come to help me and hadn’t. The person who hadn’t reply to any of my letters. You,” he stated, stopping in front of Anticus. “It had to be you. Yet I had no idea why. Why would you do that, when I had always been helpful and faithful? What could I have done? Had he found out about Monique and my son? But why would he punish me for that, after what I had done for Calista? And it was then that it finally struck me: it wasn’t anything I had done; it was what I _knew_ , the secrets I was privy to. I was the only one outside the immediate family that knew about Calista’s son and his parentage; the only one besides Anticus and Calista who knew where he was and with whom, that could find him and, therefore, prove that the Nott family tree was tainted. And as I thought about it over and over, I realised that the last times we had talked after that event Uncle Anticus would get tense if I mentioned John or what I had done to hide him, something to which I hadn’t paid attention previously.” He stopped and fixed his eyes on Anticus, who returned his gaze. “It was that, wasn’t it? You thought I knew too much, right? That I could betray you, spill the beans and ruin your reputation, both among the Purebloods in general and the Death Eaters in particular. But you couldn’t kill me, that would draw attention from the Dark Lord, so you decided to use Goyle to get rid of me. He had joined the Death Eaters with Callum, they had been at Hogwarts together, and you ordered him to frame me, didn’t you? You couldn’t use any of your sons, because you’d have to explain the reasons, so you used that idiot who wouldn’t ask any questions. Isn’t that right, dear uncle?” he spat, approaching him and bending over to look at him face to face.

“Holy fuck,” muttered Ron.

“This family is completely rotten,” added Harry, shaking his head.

In the house, Anticus lowered his face without answering. Gerion, furious, grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him once more. “Confess!” he demanded. “Admit it, you coward!”

Anticus looked into his eyes, their faces inches from the others, and then nodded. “Yes! Yes, I arranged everything!” he admitted. “I paid Goyle, he was vicious and was dying to prove himself. I didn’t even have to pay him much. Just two hundred galleons and it was done!”

“Two hundred galleons? _Just two hundred galleons_?” repeated Gerion, outraged. “So not only are you a traitor, but a miserable one as well!”

“Dad …?” asked then Amadeus, who looked clearly shocked.

“I had to!” Anticus defended himself, looking at his son. “He had been loyal, yes, but he was also so power-hungry! He became obsessed with Arcante and his experiments. He had been the only one of the Greegrasses to have benefitted from Arcante’s curse, and he believed he was his heir! And after what happened to Calista he would ask about her every time he came for a visit. He would inquire about how she was, that we shouldn’t worry about anything because he had done a good job and no one would ever know. But the way in which he said it — it sounded like a threat.”

“A threat?” replied Gerion, his anger growing once more. “I would have not betrayed your secret! I only wanted you to remember all I had done for your family and the mistakes you had made, because I was thinking about telling you all about my own son and his mother! Despite being the son of a Muggle, you had wanted to keep John safe, so I finally thought I could tell you my own secret!” he shouted. “But you went and ruined my life! Sent me to prison where I could only see my son once a month! And then Monique died, and he was left alone when he was just fifteen!” He looked at Anticus, his expression full of unadulterated hate. “But I swore to myself that I would get out of there; that I would make sure you paid for what you had done to me. I told Gèrald everything when he came of age, and he began working to get me out. Finally, last year, the French Ministry released me. We came back here immediately and started to plan how to get revenge on you.”

“And that plan was to attack my grandchildren,” grunted Anticus. “Why didn’t you come after me? What happened to you was my fault, not theirs!”

“Yes, but I needed you alive, and my main priority was to keep this between us and avoid the Ministry. I had spent thirty horrible years imprisoned, and I wasn’t going to spend another minute in a damn cell. The plan was to threaten you in a way that you’d know, without a doubt, that it was me behind it but which, at the same time, would keep the Ministry in the darkness. And using your secret grandchildren was the best way, wasn’t it? No one knew they were related to you, and I was sure you would keep the truth to yourself, as it indeed has happened. The Aurors think the attacks were random ones, unable to relate them to me in any way, and while they waste their time with Goyle, you are here at my mercy,” he finished in a satisfied tone.

“That’s where you got it wrong, mister,” muttered Harry.

Inside the room, Anticus nodded, looking defeated. He remained silent for half a minute before asking, “How? How did you find out about — about Robert? I never told anyone.”

A smirk appeared on Gerion’s face. “It was Aunt Martha, of course,” said Gerion with disdain. “That day I went to visit her, just before she passed away. I think in her deathbed she was starting to regret having given him for adoption, and she told me the whole story. To be honest, I’m not sure she was completely conscious about what she was telling me, but, in any case, she did. But like what had happened to Calista, I kept her secret and never told anyone. And yet you destroyed my life!”

“I didn’t know!” said Anticus, who now looked a bit ashamed.

“So it’s true, then?” asked Amadeus. “That woman, Amelia, is my niece? I had an older brother that didn’t die when he was a baby?”

“Yes, it’s true,” admitted Anticus.

“He was a squib,” added Gerion, looking at his cousin. “A shame for a family like yours. Yet, despite your obsession with blood purity, you Notts always put more value in the blood itself. Despite being squibs or descendant of Muggles, those children were still Notts, they were blood of your blood. Despite everything, you made sure they would be all right, so I knew you’d care if I went after them.”

“You lied to us, you bastard!” shouted Amadeus at his father. “You told us he had died! How could you? How — could — you!?”

“I did what I had to protect our family!” Anticus shouted back. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, boy!”

“I don’t understand? _I don’t understand!?_ My daughter is in a bloody hospital, suffering from a curse that could kill her! And you dare to —”

“Shut up!” yelled the woman, talking for the first time. “Enough of zis! Gerion, wee’re losing time! Wee ‘ave zem, so let’s finish an’ get out of ‘ere!”

“Are you going to kill us?” asked Anticus, afraid. And before anyone could answer, he added, “Please, do whatever you want with me, it was my fault, but release Amadeus. He didn’t do anything. And let Isabelle and Amelia live. They have nothing to do with this.”

“If you kill us, the Aurors will know,” said Amadeus, who had calmed down a bit. “They’ve been investigating us and asking questions.”

At this, Gerion smiled sufficiently. “Oh, yeah, but you didn’t tell them anything, right? And besides, they already have a culprit, don’t they?”

“Goyle,” nodded Anticus. “What’s his role in this? It is rather ironic you sought his help as it was his father the one who got you in prison.” As he finished saying this, a sudden idea seemed to struck him and his eyes widened. “Unless …” he trailed off.

“Unless what?” asked Amadeus.

“Unless you used him,” Anticus finished, staring at Gerion.

“That’s exactly what we did,” said Gèrald, who, despite having been born in France, spoke English perfectly, though with a thick accent. “And it turned it even better than we had expected, eh, Dad?”

“Certainly,” said Gerion, satisfied. “We knew the Ministry would start an investigation, and we needed a scapegoat just in case. Yes, we knew the Aurors would talk to you, but that wasn’t a concern, I knew you wouldn’t tell them anything. You had been keeping those secrets for too long to stop now. But we’d be much better off if someone was accused of the attacks, so we made some research. And, to my utter delight, we discovered that Garrick Goyle’s son was on probation, but would be free to use a wand again in a few months, and he had the same initials as me. It was as if the Universe were sending us a signal, so we decided to use him. The scars on the victims’ foreheads would be an obvious hint to you, but for everyone else it would be another evidence against him if we needed to frame him. Gèrald, whom he didn’t know, contacted him and offered him to participate in a made-up illegal job. My son told him he needed to get some illegal substances from a smuggler, but that he couldn’t contact him directly because of a problem they had had in the past, and the smuggler only confided in people with penal antecedents, as he was rather paranoid. It looked like an easy job, and, as he was in dire need of money, he accepted, even when Gèrald told him the smuggler would make him perform an Unbreakable Vow to protect himself. So, the day of each attack, Gèrald contacted Goyle and they would go and meet the smuggler. Goyle would have to retrieve a bag from him, who, by the way, was just my wonderful daughter-in-law polyjuiced.” He smiled at her and she did a curtsy, also grinning. Gerion looked back to Anticus and continued. “Then we would make a transfer to his account the next day. The payments, the carvings and the fact that he couldn’t explain where he was at the time of the attacks would make him appear guilty, and he could never defend himself or reveal anything due to the vow, which was cleverly phrased to include Gèrald.” He made a brief pause. “But, to our joy, we didn’t even need to frame him, because it turns out that the Deputy Head of the Auror Office had a thing against the Goyles and went after him almost immediately. He’ll be condemned, and so I’ll get my revenge against Garrick Goyle as well, which is a bonus.”

“We were right,” muttered Harry. “We were right, Ron! Goyle had nothing to do with this! He’s just an idiot!”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. He moved the Spynoculars away from his face and looked around. “By the way, Hermione should have sent the reinforcements already,” he added, a bit worried. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Let’s wait a bit more and —” Harry started to say, but then he seemed to have heard something and exclaimed, “Shush!” Ron quickly took the Spynoculars to his eyes to see and hear.

“— and clever plan,” Anticus was saying, not bothering to hide his admiration. “You always were very smart, Gerion. But there is a flaw in your perfect scheme: they’ll investigate who made the payments.”

“Yes, but they were done anonymously, and the Ministry has no other leads. They can say that they caught the culprit and people will be relieved. Eventually, they’ll stop investigating.”

“If Isabelle, Amelia, Amadeus and I die, they won’t leave it alone. They’ll definitely know it has something to do with us.”

“True. But if things go as we planned them, no one else will have to die,” replied Gerion, surprising Anticus.

“What? But — but the curse you used killed John!”

Gerion snorted. “The curse is not lethal by itself,” he explained. “Yeah, I used it to kill John, but that was not the original plan. However, we heard that Astoria had been attacked, and I knew at once it had been one of you. I had to do something.”

Upon hearing this, Anticus looked at Amadeus, who clenched his teeth.

“So it was you, then?” said Gerion, amused. “You never were the brightest of the lot, Amadeus. What did you expect to accomplish with that, even if you had got her? I couldn’t care less for her or her sister. I do not consider them family anymore.”

“But you killed John!” shouted Anticus.

“Well, even if I don’t care about that brat, going after her was meant as an attack against me and I couldn’t let that pass. I had to retaliate or I’d seem weak. It would also tell you how serious I am. Once one of them had died, I knew you wouldn’t refuse to come when I told you where I was.”

“So what did you do to them, if you don’t intend to kill them? What kind of curse did you use? No one has ever seen anything like it.”

“Of course not,” said Gerion, rather proud. “it was a little invention from Arcante, after all.”

“But Arcante died more than a century ago!”

“He did, yes. But he wrote most of his discoveries in a book.”

“He wrote a book?”

“He did,” Gerion confirmed, and, putting his hand into one of his pockets, extracted an old book and showed it to his uncle. “You were right, I was obsessed with him. Contrarily to the rest of my family, who despised him for what he had done and the curse he had inflicted upon us, I looked up to him. But, of course, I was the only one to have benefitted from his curse, so I understand why the rest of my family wanted nothing to do with him. Anyway, I used to go to the ruins of the old Greengrass House, where he died. Something no one else in my family did, as it is common belief that the property is cursed. But I didn’t fear Arcante’s magic, and, in one of my visits, I found a hidden chamber in the basement and the book was there, as good as new.”

“That house was searched many times before,” replied Anticus. “How is that no one found it before you?”

“Arcante was not stupid, you think he would leave the book with his discoveries and experiments for anyone to find? No, he put it under a powerful enchantment so, in case he died, only his true heir could find it. Thanks to the notes in it, I could free Gèrald — and all his descendants — from the curse, as he hadn’t been as lucky as me.” He grabbed the book with both hands and looked down at it. “It’s full of very interesting things, this book. Arcante wrote things he had discovered, like spells and potions and such. He truly was a genius. If he hadn’t killed himself, he could have become a rather powerful Dark wizard,” he said, and then let out a sigh. “Anyway, among all the spells I found a curse that, combined with the Draught of Living Dead, allows a wizard or a witch to keep a victim in an everlasting slumber, with their lifeforce linked to the will of the caster. And there’s no antidote for it. Once used, the only way to wake them up is if the caster wants that or if they are killed. It was exactly what I needed, so I decided to use it.”

“And if you don’t intend to kill us, then what do you want? What’s the purpose after all this?”

“What do I want, you ask?” repeated Gerion, putting the book on the table next to him. “I want my life back!” he spat at his uncle. “I want the years you stole from me! I want the life I missed with my son and Monique, that’s what I want!”

Anticus looked at him, and then lowered his gaze to the floor, not saying anything. Gerion continued pacing for a bit, breathing deeply to calm down.

“But that’s impossible. What’s done is done. The only thing I can do now is to enjoy the time I’ve got left with them and give them the life I couldn’t when I was young. Time in prison puts things into perspective, Uncle. Thirty years alone in a cell turned the things I had cared about before, like blood purity or power into something irrelevant. Now that I am free, I want to have a luxurious life with my family, to see my grandchildren grow up enjoying a good, comfortable existence. Monique’s family didn’t have much money, and I was disinherited by mine. The money we had, we spent it these months as we made our plans, and to lure Goyle into our trap. So, to answer your question, that’s exactly what I want — money.”

Anticus raised his head to look at his nephew, completely taken aback. “Money?” he repeated in an incredulous tone. “This whole plan, all those preparations, and all you want is _money_?”

Gerion frowned at Anticus’s disdainful tone. “For you, who always had much more than you needed, it’s easy to consider my request ridiculous, but after what I endured, and now that I am with my family, money is the only thing I need. I don’t want to worry about my family’s wellbeing ever again and live the rest of my years to the fullest. So you’re going to transfer ten million galleons to one vault in France, and then I’ll let Isabelle and Amelia live.”

“Ten million galleons!” shouted Anticus, astonished. “That — that’s almost all I have!”

“The other option is for me to use one curse in this book to prevent you from ever talking about this night, another to kill you slowly in a couple of years, and let your grandchildren die. Do you prefer that plan?”

“Do what he says, Father,” begged Amadeus. “If the only thing he wants is money, give it to him! Let’s put an end to this nightmare!”

Anticus looked at his son, and then, slowly, at Gerion. “You’ll be caught in the end.”

“We won’t. The Ministry knows nothing about all this, and we’ll leave this country tonight to never come back. I don’t need to be here to break the curse. And, after all, you won’t say anything. You’ll keep this secret like you kept the others.”

“And how do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You won’t. But if I don’t, you can tell the Aurors the truth and have them try and find us.”

“Ron, we can’t let the go away,” said Harry. “If they leave the country who knows where they’ll go.”

“I know,” Ron agreed. “And where the hell are the other Aurors?” he asked once more, looking around. “It’s been almost half an hour since Hermione left for the Ministry, they should already be here,” he added, but directed his attention back to the house when he heard Anticus spoke once more.

“— do it. You win.”

“I don’t win,” Gerion replied angrily. “You stole thirty years from me that I can never get back. Your money is a poor replacement, but at least I’ll make sure that my descendants have a good, comfortable life from now on.”

Gèrald approached the prisoners and gave Anticus a piece of parchment. “Here it is the vault information for you to make the transfer. You’d better do it first thing in the morning, or by this hour tomorrow you’ll have lost another two grandchildren.”

Anticus looked reluctant, but nodded. “Now unbind us.”

Gerion nodded at his daughter-in-law and she threw a wand at Anticus’s feet.

“We’ll keep the one from Amadeus, because I don’t trust you. One wand is enough for you to Disapparate together,” he informed them. “However, the moment you were bound to those chairs an improved version of the Anti-Apparition Charm, modified by Arcante, was activated. Its effect extends for miles, so you’ll have to walk a good distance until you can leave. We are not affected by it, though, so, the moment you are able to Disapparate, we will be long gone.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” muttered Ron, now understanding why help hadn’t come yet. Thank Merlin he had called for Harry almost immediately or he would be on his own.

“Ron, we need to go in before they escape.”

“I know, but we need a plan. They are three, and, apparently, Gerion is really powerful. And with that book … Merlin knows what fucked up curses are in there.”

“Yeah,” nodded Harry.

Inside the house, Gerion approached Anticus. “I must admit, though, that just killing a grandson you never met and stealing your money doesn’t give me enough satisfaction, so …” He pointed at his uncle with his wand and shouted, “ _Crucio!_ ”

At once, Anticus screamed in pain, squirming in the chair while Gèrald and Justine watched and Amadeus yelled, demanding for Gerion to leave him alone.

“Harry, Conjure your Invisibility Cloak. Go to the other side and enter through the door of the closed veranda. Give me a sign through the glass of the door that connects the living room and the veranda when you’re ready, but act only when I tell you and not before, no matter how bad the situation looks,” Ron said, speaking quickly. “I trust your instincts after that.”

“Okay,” accepted Harry as he took out the wand, though he was eyeing him warily. “I trust you, Ron, but don’t do anything stupid.”

“When have I?” he replied with a nervous smirk.

Harry gave him a look and then, taking his wand, he Conjured his cloak and then put it over him, disappearing from view. Ron heard the noise of his footsteps as he hurried away, and then took out Hermione’s wand and gripped it tightly. “Let’s go, Weasley,” he told himself, gathering all his courage.

Moving slowly, he approached the main door, who, fortunately, the Notts had left open, and, after casting a charm on his feet so he could walk without making a noise, he tiptoed inside while Anticus started screaming again, clearly under a second round of the _Cruciatus_.

Thanking Merlin once more for the Spynoculars, he moved slowly along the short hallway that separated the kitchen — on his right — from the staircase — on his left, which shared a wall with the library. At the end of this short hallway started a perpendicular one that ended on the door to the ground floor bathroom and contained the doors to the library and the large living room. Ron hid next to the doorframe just as Anticus was put out of his misery, his screams fading into small whimpers.

“You bastard, my father is seventy-eight-years-old!” he heard Amadeus shout over his father’s heavy breathing.

“He got off easy,” Gerion replied. “You can be thankful that, after what he did to me, this is the only repayment. Release them, Justine.”

Ron took a deep breath and gripped his wand tightly before peering through the open door. Surveying the scene in just a second, he pointed his wand at Justine and shouted ‘ _Desmaius!_ ’ just after she had used her wand to release the two prisoners. The woman was caught by surprise and crumpled to the floor, unconscious, before she could act in any way.

“What the fuck!?” asked Gèrald, turning to face him. Gerion spun around on the spot as well.

“Weasley!” shouted Amadeus.

“Don’t move, any of you!” ordered Ron, pointing his wand at them. “You’re arrested in the name of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the —” But Ron couldn’t complete the warning, because Gerion moved his wand very quickly in a circle, and though it was pointing the floor, it caused the lights to flicker for a millisecond, and then Ron’s wand flew off his hand and to the other side of the room. “Shit!” he swore.

“Nice little trick, right?” said Gerion, giving him a deadly glare. “Now tell me who the hell you are and what you’re doing here, or you won’t live to tell the tale.”

“I am an Auror, Mr Greengrass,” said Ron, trying to appear calm and not give away that he was keeping an eye on the door to the veranda. “Your plan has failed. I was at Nott Mansion when they —” he nodded towards Anticus and Amadeus “—received your letter. When I realised they had left, Calista told me about this house, so here I am. I’ve heard everything you’ve said, and reinforcements are on the way, so you’ve failed. I advise you to drop your wands and surrender.” As he said this, he saw Harry’s finger appear just for a moment through the glass of the door before vanishing again under the cloak.

“Fuuuuck!” shouted Gèrald angrily. “No, no, no! It can’t be! Not after how much time we spent planning this! Fuck!”

“Calm down, boy!” Gerion admonished him. “He’s disarmed, after all. And if he called for help after the Anti-Apparition Charm was lifted, it’ll take them quite a while to arrive here.”

“He’s the fucking Ron Weasley, Dad! The best friend of Harry Potter! They got rid of The Dark Lord —”

“Good riddance,” interrupted Gerion, not looking impressed at all. “I don’t care who he is, he’s disarmed right now. We can’t kill him, right, but he won’t remember any of this, so it doesn’t matter. Are you alone, boy?”

“Yeah,” Ron responded.

Gerion let out a chuckle. “I’d be an idiot if I trusted your word.” He lifted his wand and moved the tip in a wide circle. Ron felt something cold go through his body and he shuddered.

 _Fuck!_ He thought, forcing his face to remain expressionless.

Gerion frowned. “There is another in the veranda.”

Gèrald moved to the door and opened it carefully, looking at both sides. “There’s no one here,” he said, turning round to look at his father. “Maybe he’s outside, waiting?”

Gerion frowned. “No, that can’t be …” he trailed off. He thought about it for a moment and then said, “Well, I’ll tend to him soon,” declared Gerion, and focused again on Ron. “First, we’ll make sure Auror Weasley won’t say anything,” he added menacingly, lifting his wand towards him. “You should have let us handle our matters, lad, now you —”

“NOW!” yelled Ron, cutting him in, and, instantly, a red jet of light appeared out of thin air and hit Gèrald on the back. He fell to the floor just like his wife had a minute before.

Caught by surprise, Gerion turned towards the other door and shot a curse in Harry’s direction. There was an explosion and Ron, hoping Harry had moved away, took advantage of the distraction and extracted his own wand, pointed it at Gerion and cast another Stunning Spell. It hit him right on the centre of his back and Ron felt a sudden feeling of elation, thinking it was over, but, to his shock, Gerion’s cloak simply vanished and he turned round, unharmed.

“Two wands,” he said appraisingly. “Smart move,” he added before casting his own Stunning Spell. Ron dodged it, and it hit the wall behind him with the power of a cannon ball, opening a hole. He really was very powerful. “I have my own tricks as well, Auror!”

Ron retaliated, but Gerion blocked him, and soon they were engaged in a violent duel. The wall between the living room and the corridor that he was using for protecting was quickly reduced to rubble as Ron fought with all his might and skill to avoid Gerion’s powerful attacks. And yet he was sure the older wizard wasn’t using all his power. Luckily for Ron, Gerion didn’t want to kill him, just defeat him so he could carry on his original plan. He felt they had been battling for ages, though most surely it was for just half a minute when Harry appeared back on the other door and joined the fight.

Gerion, realising he was outnumbered, started using new curses and hexes Ron had never heard of, and Ron and Harry had to retreat a bit under the sheer power of the assault. They shared a quick glance, and then moved in opposite directions so Gerion would have difficulties defending himself from both of them.

But, as they engaged in the duel once more, Amadeus Nott took advantage of the situation and grabbed his father’s wand from the floor. Ron saw him aim at Gerion from the corner of his eye and shouted ‘No!’ but it was too late.

“ _Avada_ _Kedavra!_ ”

Gerion heard him and, with a quick movement of his wand, one of the chairs floated just in time to get between him and green jet of death. It burst into flames the moment the curse hit it.

Ron, acting on pure instinct, turned towards Amadeus and Stunned him. Almost at the same time, Anticus threw himself to the floor to grab the fallen wand. Ron heard Harry shout, ‘Don’t think of it’ and tried to Stun him, but he rolled over, and the spell hit the floor, missing him by a couple of inches.

But even though all of that happened in just a few seconds, it allowed Gerion to prepare his next attack. Shouting in anger, his wand glowed and Ron was pushed backwards. He was quick enough to cast a Shielding Charm and avoid being crushed, but his back hit the wall rather forcefully, knocking the air out of him. He struggled to recover as Harry attacked with all his might. To Ron’s glee, his friend’s skill surprised Gerion, forcing him to retreat and allowing Ron a moment to regain his breath.

“So you’re the famous Boy Who Lived, right?” taunted Gerion, furious. “Let’s see what you’re made of!” he shouted and then launched a new attack. Harry managed to defend himself, but he retreated under the power of his foe. Around them, what was left of the walls of the living room and the ceiling began to crack, and some chunks of wood and stone began to fall. As he got ready to help his best mate, he saw Anticus dragging — with obvious difficulty — Amadeus’s limp body away from Gerion and towards the windows. He gripped his own wand firmly and was about to re-enter the fray when he heard what he was sure was Gallory’s voice shouting orders outside.

“ _They’re fighting there! Let’s surround the house and go in!_ ”

Warm, welcome relief flooded his body upon hearing those words. Help had arrived, at last!

Gerion seemed to have heard them as well, and froze for a moment, giving Harry a much-needed breath. “It’s over, Mr Greengrass,” he said, panting. “Surrender.”

“No, no, NO!” Gerion shouted, furious beyond measure. “TO HELL WITH YOU, I’LL KILL YOU ALL!”

His wand emitted a brief, blinding light, and then it exploded with the force of one of those Muggle bombs he had seen in films.

He acted with almost inhuman speed, years of training ingrained in his instincts, and automatically used his wand to cast a powerful shield to stop the shockwave, which seemed to blow everything into pieces and even set some flammable items on fire. The shield saved his life but wasn’t able to stop the attack completely and he was thrown back against the wall of the library. And then, before he could recover, he heard Anticus shout and, by pure instinct, looked up to see that the structure of the entire house had been destroyed and that the second floor and the rooftop was literally falling onto him.

Ron had been scared many times before, and quite frequently during missions or raids but the fear that crept up his spine as he felt the house crumble over him was unlike any other he had experienced. In just a fraction of a second he saw all the things he was going to miss if he died: his wedding with Hermione, the family they could have created together, the evenings snuggling in the sofa, their walks at sunset, their rows, the sex …

If not for his well-trained instincts, he would have perished under the rubble, but his arm acted almost on its own and, pointing up, cast a charm over him to hold the falling debris, extending it to cover Anticus and Amadeus and, therefore, saving their lives.

“Fuuuuck!” he shouted, his arm trembling with the effort he was making to avoid being buried alive. “You need to move!” he told Anticus.

“Harry! Harry!” he yelled, unable to see anything among the dust and smoke. He heard shouts and yells and people cursing, but couldn’t make out who was saying what.

Finally, when he thought he was going to faint, he heard someone calling him.

“Ron? Ron, can you hear me!?”

“Ada! In here! Quickly!”

A moment later, the wall behind him, who hadn’t crumbled, protected by his shield, vanished and he saw Ada and Katie Bell approaching among the destruction. They were covered in dust as well, but looked fine. They used their own wands and between the three of them pushed the debris away.

“Thank you,” he said in relief before looking around. “Where’s Harry?”

“Here, Mate,” he heard. Someone cast another spell and the dust vanished, revealing the devastation Gerion had caused. The entire house had been reduced to splinters and rubble. Harry was where the veranda had been, a gash on his face and covered in dust, but looking otherwise okay. Fortunately, the veranda was only covered by a roof; there was no second floor there. His wand was pointing at Gerion, who was kneeling on a clean zone — as he had been the origin of the explosion — but surrounded by the burning rests of the armchairs and smoking pieces of word. He was bound and disarmed, and, to Ron’s shock, weeping a bit. To Ron’s surprise, Gallory was also there, his eyes fixed on Gerion as if he were in shock.

“What happened?” asked Ron.

“He realised what he had done and used his powers to protect them,” explained Harry, pointing to the still unconscious Gèrald and Justine, who were lying on another clean zone, though they looked dishevelled and their clothes had some burns. “It gave me time to disarm and bound him. It was easy, though, he didn’t offer any resistance.” Ron looked at Gerion away, and, despite everything, he couldn’t but feel a little bit of sympathy towards him. He had been betrayed by those he considered family, and then his plan to ensure a good life for his son had backfired. In the end, he had lost the opportunity to escape just to save him and his daughter-in-law.

“We must take them to the Ministry,” said Harry, looking at Gallory. He, however, seemed not to have heard him, apparently still in shock. “Sir?” he added, unsure.

“Eh?” Gallory asked faintly, looking as if he had just woken up. “Oh, yes, yes, Potter. Let’s take them to the Ministry …” Gallory muttered, looking lost. Ada and Katie moved towards the two unconscious people, using spells to lift their bodies. Ron turned to look at the two Notts and his heart skipped a beat.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Anticus had managed to get his wand, which had been dragged under Amadeus body, and was now pointing at Gerion.

“NO!” Ron shouted and moved his own wand quickly. However, before he could disarm him, Anticus had managed to yell, _“Avada Kedavra!_ ”

The force of Ron’s spell threw him back onto the piles of rubble, but it was too late: the green stream hit Gerion squarely on the chest and he fell to the ground, dead.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, a bloody thousand times fuck!” RON shouted as everyone else stared in shock. “You fucking murderer, why!? WHY!? He was defeated! He was bound!” he roared, moving towards the old man and grabbing him by the front of his robes. “WHY?” he demanded, shaking him.

Anticus coughed a bit, moaning in pain, as no doubt the impact against the debris must have hurt his back, adding to the pains of the _Cruciatus_ curse, but Ron couldn’t care less. “WHY?” he asked once more.

Anticus looked up at him. “He didn’t get what he wanted, so he didn’t have a reason to spare Isabelle and Amelia’s lives. Killing him is the only way to ensure they’ll wake up.”

Ron closed his eyes to resist the desire to punch him until he was dead. He wanted to retort, but the truth was that he couldn’t deny the logic of what the man had said.

“This is your fault!” he spat at him after a few seconds, eyeing him with disgust. “I hope you spend the rest of your miserable life in a cell in Azkaban.”

Anticus looked up at him, but didn’t bother defending himself. Ron let him fall and turned round to look at Gerion’s lifeless form before sharing a meaningful look with an equally distraught Harry.

* * *

Gerion’s death meant the end of the Anti-Apparition Charm, so they were able to transport the prisoners and Gerion’s body back to the Ministry. Once there, and before anything else, Gallory ordered them to the showers. When Ron got out of his, he found himself next to his best friend, who was looking at the mirror without really seeing it.

“We failed,” said Ron dejectedly. “We failed Harry.

Harry turned towards him. “No, we didn’t, Ron. We ended the case. We got them.”

“That sick fuck killed Gerion in front of us! Five Aurors there and he managed to kill him! And to think I almost died extending the charm to save their fucking lives! I should have let them die!”

“You saved them because you’re an Auror and a good person, Ron. And yes, I suppose we all got a bit distracted. But, in our defence, Gerion almost blew us up. We could have died. Luckily, I was in the veranda when the house crumbled, but if you hadn’t acted fast ...” He made a pause. “None of us knew he had a wand. But we got them, and Isabelle and Amelia will live.”

Ron shook his head, his eyes fixed on the basins. “All that hate … Fuck, they were family, Harry. Family! And they destroyed themselves just for a fucking secret. Anticus had a man killed and sent Gerion to prison, Gerion let his cousin die, Anticus killed Gerion, Amadeus attacked Astoria, and now Amadeus, Anticus, Gèrald and his wife will end up in prison …”

“Yes, it’s horrible, and sick. You’re right about that. But you’re wrong when you say they were family,” said Harry, and Ron looked up at him, not understanding. “They were blood related, which is not the same as being family,” Harry clarified. And when Ron frowned, still not getting it, he added, “I am related to the Dursleys by blood, but not only once, in the sixteen years I lived with them, I felt like I was with my family. The first time that happened was when that first Christmas morning at Hogwarts when we opened our gifts together and I received not just yours, Hermione’s and Hagrid’s, but that first Weasley jumper from your mother. And it fully settled when you took me to your house the next summer.” He put a hand on Ron’s shoulder before continuing. “You gave me a family, and not just because thanks to you I met my wife and the mother of my son. You showed that having a brother had nothing to do with blood. And even if I forget the other million things you’ve done for me, I will always be in debt with you just for that one, Ron.”

Ron felt a sudden, powerful emotion flood him. Of course, he knew Harry felt like this, but hearing it out loud was another thing. He was right, family did not necessarily have anything to do with blood. He felt like he had to say something in reply, but he was unable to, feeling a lump in his throat, so he just nodded.

“Let’s go, yeah?” Harry suggested. “They must be waiting for us. And I want to know all you discovered about Gerion.”

They finished dressing and then went back to the main office. Hermione was waiting for them at the entrance to Gallory’s office, looking a bit anxious, and the moment he saw them, she sprinted towards them and embraced them both in a tight hug.

“Oh, gods, I was so worried!” she muttered, her voice cracking a bit.

“We’re fine, Love,” whispered Ron against her ass of curls. She pulled apart, her eyes scanning them for extra reassurance and then gave him a short but deep kiss. When she pulled away, he took her wand from one of his pockets and gave it her. “Thank you so much.”

“It was useful, then?” asked Hermione, grabbing it.

“I think it saved our lives,” said Harry. “I had never seen anyone disarm in that way.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send help. Gallory and Ada Ladnus were in Knowton’s office and there was only Katie on guard. It took us a bit to found them, and then had to explain what was happening. Gallory got a bit furious at first, and it took me a couple of minutes to make them understand. Fortunately, Knowton got the urgency of the situation and ordered them to go.”

“Well, I won’t deny they would have been welcomed a bit earlier, but they arrived just in time,” said Harry. “Thank you, Hermione.”

They walked back to Gallory’s office. Gallory was in there, sitting on his chair with an expression hard to decipher. Knowton was also there and, to Ron’s surprise, so was Kingsley.

“The heroes of the day!” said Kingsley with a wide smile when he saw them. “Hermione has just given us a brief summary of what happened. I should be used to it, but let me say I’m truly impressed.”

Knowton nodded eagerly. “The Minister is right. You went far beyond the call of duty, I’d say. And you saved at least two lives tonight. St Mungo has just informed us that Isabelle Fawley and Amelia Notte have woken up. They’re a bit groggy, but they’ll make a full recovery.”

Harry nodded, but Ron just shrugged. Time ago, hearing such praise from the Minister and the Head of Department would have him extremely proud, but, right now, he didn’t feel like he had achieved anything.

“So Goyle is innocent, then?” asked Kingsley, throwing a quick but meaningful glance at Gallory.

“Well,” said Harry, “I wouldn’t say that. He believed he was partaking in the trade of illegal substances, so from his point of view, he was breaking the law. However, as that was just a deception planned by Gerion, his son and his daughter-in-law, it turns out he actually didn’t anything.”

“Do you care to give us a detailed account of it all?” Kingsley asked.

Ron nodded, and Harry and he explained what they had discovered and how, including what they had heard from Gerion and Anticus’s talk. Hermione added a few bits, though never mentioning how she had been the one to tell them that, as Aurors, they had the right to investigate on their account if they felt the Ministry was making a mistake or overlooking something. Ron, however, did mention it. After all, they probably wouldn’t have dared to start their own parallel investigation if not for her encouragement. Knowton smiled warmly at her upon hearing that. The only one who never said anything was Gallory. He remained silent, as if lost in his own world.

“I’m so proud of you, guys,” said Knowton, looking at Harry and Ron. “You risked your own jobs to solve this case, and you came up victorious. Thanks to you, Gerion and his family didn’t manage to escape. I know you said his intention was to let Isabelle and Amelia live, but — who knows? After so many years accumulating hate towards his uncle he might have let them die. The investigation you made was exceptional, and you held your own against three foes, one of them exceptionally powerful. I daresay you deserve a promotion, though you’re already Senior Aurors, so we’ll think about that. For starters, you will be partners again and be restored to your previous positions. No more patrolling or silly report revision. Right, Garmond?” he added, turning to look at Gallory. He, at last, looked up.

“Yes,” he said, nodding as if he were in some sort of trance. “You’re right. They solved this case despite everything, and they do deserve a promotion. But, as you said, there’s no available position open, so …” He got up, took his Auror badge and, after stared at it with what only could described as a mixture of longing and shame. After a few seconds, his hand twitched and then he let the badge fall onto the desk, where it bounced a few times before stopping, face down. Ron and Harry shared a quick look, both astonished, before looking back at their boss. Gallory held their gazes, his eyes showing unmistakable regret and shame. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I let my own prejudices against you and my — my personal feelings against Goyle’s father cloud my judgement. You were right from the start, Gregory Goyle was innocent, and if you had followed my orders this case would have never been solved. Three criminals would have escaped and who knows if we would have to regret more deaths. I — I don’t deserve the honour of being an Auror. Not anymore. I — I quit. One of you two can be Deputy Head, you’ve earned it.”

“Garmond, no one here was asking you to quit —” started Knowton, shocked.

“I know, but it’s for the best. Now I can spend time with Elisabeth, and, perhaps, help each other to finally heal,” he added, apparently not remembering that neither Harry, Ron or Hermione knew — supposedly — about what had happened to him and his wife during the war. “I’ll come back tomorrow to sign all the needed paperwork,” he declared, and then crossed the room. When he passed Harry and Ron, he turned to look at them. “Again, I’m sorry. I blamed you for things that were just my fault, and that wasn’t fair. It’s not the full three-year course what makes a good Auror, and you’ve proved that.”

“Thank you, Sir,” muttered Harry.

“You were a good Auror,” added Ron, gulping. “You came to help us. If you, Ada and Katie hadn’t arrived when you did, I might have died under all that rubble.”

Gallory nodded gratefully, his lips curving into the smallest smile, and then left.

“Well, that was unexpected,” commented Knowton after a few seconds, and looked at Kingsley.

“Er — yes, completely.” He sighed. “Anyway, we’ve got a position to fill, but I’m not sure which of you should have it.”

“Maybe they could share it?” suggested Knowton.

Ron looked at Hermione, who was smiling at him with pride, and remembered those distressing moments in the cottage and the fear he had experienced. He thought about what he had heard, the horrible truths revealed, all the lives destroyed, and knew, for sure, that he didn’t want that in his life anymore. He could see understanding in Hermione’s eyes, and then she gave him a slight, encouraging nod.

“There’s no need for that,” he blurted out, drawing the attention of the other three. He grabbed his own Auror badge and unpinned it from his robes. “I quit as well.”

“WHAT!?” exclaimed Knowton. “But — but — why?”

Ron looked at Harry. “Mate, I loved working with you these past years, and I’m gonna miss it a lot, but these last weeks have finally showed me that I’ve run my course here. I’m tired of the danger, the deaths, all the shit in the world. I’m going to marry and, hopefully, start a family, and I need a change. George told me last Sunday that Weasleys are meant for the bright, funny side of life, and he’s right.”

Harry stared at him for a few, very long seconds, and then nodded, smiling sadly. “I understand, Ron. I thought about quitting as well when James was born, but I still love this. I can’t imagine myself doing another thing, but you must find your own path.”

“Are you sure, Ron?” asked Kingsley.

At his question, Ron grabbed Hermione’s hand and, giving it a squeeze, nodded. “Completely. And I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity, Kingsley. I truly enjoyed being an Auror, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I think I’ve got enough fighting for a lifetime.”

“I gave you nothing more than what you deserved, Ron. And if you feel it’s time to do something else, then that’s what you must do. And it’s me, and the Ministry, who must be grateful to you for everything you’ve done.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to ask you to wait a week or so until you leave, though. To sort things out.”

“Yes, of course. There’s no hurry.”

“Well then,” said Knowton, sighing. “It seems that the position of Deputy Head is yours, Potter, if you want it.”

Harry seemed nervous, and looked at Ron and Hermione, doubtful. They gave him reassuring smiles.

“You’ll do wonderfully, Harry,” said Hermione. “You’re a natural leader.”

“Yeah, Mate. Don’t think about it.”

Harry grinned and turned to Knowton. “Okay, then.”

“Wonderful,” said Kingsley. “Congratulations, Harry.”

“Tomorrow we’ll have a meeting to review your new duties and such, to ease you into the position.”

“Okay,” nodded Harry.

Just then, Ada Ladnus appeared, followed by Katie, both looking fresh and clean. “Sorry to disturb you,” she said, clearly surprise to find the Minister in there. “I was looking for Deputy Head Gallory. Where is he?”

“Well, you’re a bit late, then. He’s just quit his job,” Knowton informed them, and Ada gasped, blinking rapidly.

“What?”

“Really?” asked Katie.

“Yeah,” nodded Harry.

Ada seemed a bit disconcerted, but then shook her head. “Well, I just wanted to tell you Calista Nott and her sister-in-law Cecilia are here.”

“I should talk to them, shouldn’t I?” Harry asked, looking around for confirmation.

“Well, you’re the new Deputy Head, Potter,” said Knowton with a smile.

“Really?” asked Katie, and then beamed. “Congratulations, Harry!”

“Thanks, Katie.”

Ada nodded at him as well, a smile on her face.

Ron looked at Ron. “Let’s talk to them, finish here and go home, okay?”

Ron nodded. “You’re the boss,” replied Ron with a grin.

“They’re in room D,” Ada told them. Harry nodded.

“Can I go with you?” asked Hermione.

“Of course,” said Harry, and the three friends walked to the room where the two Notts were waiting.

“Ms Nott. Mrs Nott,” greeted Harry when they entered.

Both women were sitting together, with grim looks on their faces, though Cecilia looked a bit relieved as well, thought Ron. He supposed it was natural, giving that her daughter had woken up.

“Auror Potter,” said Calista, her voice shaky.

“I suppose you’ve been informed that it’s over. Gerion Greengrass is dead, and his accomplices, his son and daughter-in-law, are arrested.”

They nodded. “Auror Ladnus told us when she fetched us at St Mungo.”

“So you’ve seen your daughter,” said Harry, looking at Cecilia.

“I did. Alfred, his husband, is with her now. But I needed to see Amadeus. Where is he?”

“He’s arrested and will be charged with murder attempt and assault. We are fairly sure he was the wizard who attacked Astoria Malfoy in Diagon Alley yesterday,” Harry explained quite harshly.

At his words, Cecilia gasped, her mouth wide open.

“I reckon he’ll spend ten years in Azkaban. Maybe a bit less, if the Wizengamot determines the murder attempt was really self-defence.”

“Ten years …” repeated Cecilia to herself, her upper lip trembling.

“And — and what about Father?” asked Calista. “Where is he?”

“He did kill Gerion when he was already arrested and bound. That’s murder. Most surely he’ll spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.”

“He — _he killed Gerion_?” asked Calista, astounded.

“He did,” said Ron, speaking for the first time. “But even if he hadn’t, he would deserve a cell. This mess is all his fault. He framed Gerion with the killing for which he was imprisoned in France, just because he knew the truth about your son. And he gave your older brother in adoption when he realised that he was a squib. Nice bloke, your father.”

“Oh, Merlin!” exclaimed Calista, covering her mouth with her hands.

Harry shook his head and began to pace the room. Then, suddenly, he whipped around on the spot and faced her, fury etched upon his face. “I warned you!” he shouted, startling everyone. “You could have prevented this, if you had told us the truth yesterday! But no, you had to keep your fucking secrets, hadn’t you? Well, see where that got you! You lost your son and now your father and brother will be carted off to Azkaban!”

“Harry …” intervened Hermione in a warning tone.

Harry turned to face her. “I’m right! We could have prevented this if we had known the truth! No one should have died!”

Ron looked at Calista. She didn’t refute Harry’s arguments and just looked down while silent tears rode down her cheeks.

“Can I see my husband, please?” Cecilia asked then in a rather low voice. “I — I’d like to tell him Isabelle is fine.”

Harry looked at her for a moment and then nodded. He turned towards Ron. “Can you accompany her? I’ll get started with the paperwork.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see your father?” Harry asked Calista, his tone again harsh and angry.

Calista didn’t say anything.

“Calista?” asked her sister-in-law.

Calista looked up at Harry. “No. Not today.”

“As you wish.”

“Harry,” admonished Hermione once more.

“He’s right,” said the woman, surprising them all. “I — I should have followed my gut and tell you. I should have put an end to this long ago. But I suppose that when you’ve been hiding and keeping secrets for half your life it’s hard to change. And now it’s too l-late. If I could change the past I would. If — if —” She shook her head and lowered her face once more.

Hermione, compassionate as she was, sat down next to her, taking her hand in hers for comfort.

“Let’s go,” said Harry, and got out of the room. Cecilia got up as well and followed him after giving her sister-in-law a squeeze on her upper arm.

“See you home?” asked Ron, looking at Hermione.

“I’ll be here,” she told him. “Can you come fetch me when you’re done?”

“Eh — yeah,” nodded Ron, not understanding why she would stay.

He walked out and was crossing the doorframe when he heard her talk again.

“You can’t change the past, Ms Nott, but you can help prevent this happen again. You can help change things —” But then the door closed and the spells in the room prevented him from hearing the rest.

* * *

In the end, it was Hermione who appeared at the door of Harry’s new office before he and Harry could finish. She waited for them, and then they both said goodbye to Harry before finally heading home.

They prepared some sandwiches in silence, enjoying their companionship. When they were done, they grabbed a bottle of wine and went to the living room, sitting on the couch while the fire crackled in the hearth.

“Hermione …” he began to say after a bit, drawing her attention.

“Yes?”

“You really don’t mind me leaving the Auror Office?”

She looked at him for a moment and then put the sandwich down on her plate and turned on the sofa to face him, her right leg tucked under her. “Want to know a secret?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Ron opened his eyes in surprise. “You’re glad?”

She nodded. “Being an Auror was always dangerous, Ron, but — I don’t know, lately it got worse for me. Thankfully, you have rarely gone to dangerous missions in the last year or so, but still. When I heard that Robards had been hurt in that operation to catch Rabastan Lestrange I almost went crazy with worry. Maybe it’s we’re getting older, or I’m being more conscious about it, I’m not sure. You didn’t see me today, while I searched the office for available Aurors and only saw Katie as the other two on guard had been called due to a fight in Edinburgh. Every minute that passed I grew more and more desperate, imagining something had happened to you. I didn’t even think you could have called Harry!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Then, when I found Gallory and they left I couldn’t do anything but worry. It was horrible, Ron,” she admitted. “So yes, I’m glad you quit. Maybe working at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is not as glamorous, but it’ll be safe.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that much,” he said jokingly. “Remember I’ll be working with George ...”

“ _Relatively_ safe, then,” she conceded with a smile. “But you know what I mean. You’ll be happy and out of mortal peril, so what else can I ask for?”

Ron smiled and grabbed her hand in his, kissing her delicate knuckles.

“Because you’ll be happy, right?” she inquired.

Ron nodded. “I’m fairly sure. And even if I found out I wasn’t, I wouldn’t go back to the Auror Office. Today, hearing them talk about all those horrible things … I don’t want that darkness in my life anymore, Hermione.”

She nodded in understanding and they fell silent for a moment. Ron thought about Gèrald and Justine, bout how they had been dragged to this story of revenge.

“What about Gerion’s son and his wife?” he asked her.

“What about them?”

“I mean, how long will they be in prison?”

Hermione bit her lower lip in concentration as she thought about it. “Well, they’re accomplices, though neither of them were active participants in any of the three attacks. They could be accused of conspiration to commit murder, conspiration to frame another citizen with a crime, and of abduction, as they held the Notts against their will, though it is true they were in Gerion’s property, so … I’d say about six to seven years. Maybe ten, if the Wizengamot is exceptionally severe.”

Ten years at most… And then what? Would they seek revenge against Notts once more? Or would they leave the country? The Auror Office would have to keep an eye on them when they were out … though that, he realised suddenly, was no longer his problem.

They finished their dinner and then Hermione snuggled against him. Ron put her left arm around her shoulders, relishing in the fragrance of her hair.

“How do you feel?” she asked him. “About the case, I mean.”

“I’m glad it’s over,” he said. “Though I would feel better if my last case hadn’t ended with a murder right in front of me.”

“Yes, I imagine. But you were brilliant, by the way. Taking my wand with you … it saved your lives. That Gerion seemed really dangerous.”

“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said, grateful. “He was pretty powerful, yeah. I really feared for our lives there.”

At those words, Hermione moved to face him and put her arms around his neck. “But you’re here with me, safe and sound. And I no longer have to fear about you getting hurt. Only about you coming home with your skin blue or covered in boils, but in that case I know whom to blame and where he lives.”

“So you’d punish George if he messed with my body?” he asked with a smile.

“You can bet your fine bum that I would,” she said, moving to straddle him. “No one messes with the sexy, toned body of my husband.”

His grin brightened. “I like how that sounds,” he said, moving his hands to her legs and caressing her thighs over her skirt.

“I know, _husband_ ,” she responded, and leaned forwards to give him a soft, slow kiss. 

Their mouths moved against each other’s for a while and the pulled apart, smiling at one another.

“Anyway, despite how much of nightmare this case had been, I’m in a way glad for it, you know.”

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I remember you coming home last week muttering all kind of expletives.”

“Yeah,” he conceded, “but thanks to that I got to fuck your round, sexy, tight ass,” he added, moving his hands to her that very part of her body and squeezing her cheeks.

She laughed, “Yes, of course. You really enjoyed that.”

“Fuck, Hermione, I’ve wanting to do that for years, since the first time I took you from behind. You’ve really got an amazing, wonderful, delicious, hot ass …”

Hermione laughed again and then kissed him, this time more passionately. Their talk and the way she was acting inflamed him, and he could feel his cock starting to stir. Then she pulled away from his lips and began to kiss him along his jaw and to his ear, taking his earlobe into her mouth.

“Want to see what I am wearing under this skirt, Ron?” she whispered huskily.

Ron’s response was just a grunt, and Hermione straightened up, moving her hands to the hem of her skirt. Ron’s eyes followed them and he gulped when she lifted the fabric up, slowly and teasingly, until it was bunched around her waist, revealing the extremely sexy and tiny pair of black satin panties that covered her pussy.

“Fuck, Hermione …” he moaned, sliding his hands up her thighs and to her hips before kneading her ass lustily, relishing on the fleshy feel of her plump cheeks. As he caressed and squeezed her, Hermione opened her blouse, revealing her matching bra. She squeezed her own breasts over the cups, making Ron’s cock twitch uncomfortably under his boxers. Then Hermione opened the front clasp, letting both globes bounce freely and leaned forwards, brushing her hard nipples against his face. “Suck them, Ron.”

Ron didn’t need the request, but complied immediately, taking the left nipple in his mouth and sucking on it hard, opening his mouth wide to get more of her flesh in.

“Mmmh, yes, yes, like that,” she moaned, caressing his hair with one hand and touching her free breast with the other.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he muttered before engulfing it again, sucking hungrily. Hermione whimpered, very excited and began to grind herself against his crotch. Feeling about to explode, Ron released her tits and grabbed her by her ass, turning them both and laying her on the couch in a quick move.

“Ron!”

“Going to eat your pussy raw, Hermione,” he declared, and she practically purred in delight at his words.

Ron slid to the floor and knelt next to her. Hurriedly, he yanked her knickers down and she eagerly lifted her bum to help him. Ron took them off her and threw them across the living room, not caring about where they ended. His attention was completely focused between her legs, on her soft, hot, mouth-watering pussy. He roughly pushed one of her legs against the back of the couch and pulled on the other so it fell over the border of the cushions and placed himself between them, having her completely spread for him. He took her in, licking his lips at her eager face, the heaving of her tits and the succulent meal that was her dripping cunt. He slid his hands along her inner thighs, making her shiver, ant then used his thumbs to part her folds, revealing her pink flesh and her already swollen clit. Then, unable to resist her pull anymore, buried his face in her fanny and began to eat her out ravenously, licking and sucking and tongue-fucking her, enjoying everything her pussy had to offer and making her let out moan after moan.

“Oooh, oh, Roooon …”

“Fuck, your pussy’s so tasty, so wet and — fuck, ‘Ermione …” he muttered before latching onto her clit. After just a couple of sucks, he buried two fingers in her tight hole and began a deep, steady finger-fuck which soon turned the train of moans into a long, uninterrupted wail of pleasure.

As he worked her pussy, he kept an eye on her face and the way she was kneading her own tits. He loved the way her body was sensually undulating under him, as if she was an exquisite instrument and he an expert musician. As he continued with his ministrations, she moved her hands to his head and pushed him harder against her while her hips began to buck almost on their own accord, practically fucking his face and signalling her impending orgasm.

“Ron … Ron, oh, gods, Ron, oh … ohhh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Ron, yes, yes, don’t stop, don’t stopdonstopdonsto — ROOOOOON! OH, FUUUUCK!” she screamed as her body convulsed and her pussy contracted rhythmically around his fingers. She clenched her thighs around his head, almost suffocating him between her legs and cunt, which made him even hornier. Finally, her entire body sagged, satisfied, and he resurfaced, his chin completely drenched in her juices.

“Good, eh?”

“Not bad,” she said, though her expression betrayed how satisfied she felt.

“‘Not bad’?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s what I get for almost dying against you pussy?”

“Don’t exaggerate,” she replied, and then added, smirking, “Besides, if you’ve got to die, better to be between my legs and not in some forsaken place, fighting.”

“That’s right,” he admitted. “But no more forsaken places for me or dangerous missions. No more nights away from home,” he added, crawling over her body. “Now I’m completely yours,” he finished when his face was just above hers. She cupped his cheek with her hand, smiling lovingly at him.

“Yes, you are. Only mine. Forever.”

“Think you can do that? That you can take all of me?”

At this, she smiled saucily. “I plan on taking all of you, yes,” she said, her free hand moving to his bulge, which she began to stroke over his trousers.

“Fuck, yeah. Need to be in your tight, perfect pussy, Hermione …”

Hermione moved his hands and grasped the hem of her shirt, pulling it up. He helped her to take it off him and threw it to the floor while Hermione’s hands went his trousers at once, unbuttoning them and then pushing them down along with his boxers to uncover her throbbing erection, which she took into her hands, rubbing it with fervour.

“Fuck, Hermione, keep that up and you’ll make me cum all over you.”

“Surely we can go again if that happens.”

“Yeah, but I plan on cumming deep in you. Every time.”

“Come inside, then,” she whispered, pointing his dick at her entrance. “Give it to me, Ron.”

“Shit, Hermione, you drive me mad. Fuck …” Then his tip touched her folds and the head went in, her pussy almost swallowing it greedily. “Aaah, yeah …” he groaned as he entered her, relishing the way her muscles gripped him so tightly. No matter how much they fucked, she always felt amazing.

He put his left elbow next to her and slid his arm under her back, wanting to have her between his arms, and put his right hand next to her head. Hermione lifted her legs and crossed them above his bum, giving him a perfect angle for deep penetration. Then, with their bodies pressed tightly together, he began to rock, moving into her.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet …”

“Oh, Ron … I love having you inside me. Gods, you feel so good …”

He claimed her lips with his, kissing her hungrily while his hips moved back and forth, sliding his aching dick inside her tight, hot hole, barely retreating a couple of inches before pushing in once more. However, as they kiss grew in intensity so did their need, and Ron began to move harder, turning the slow sex into frenzied fucking. And as their pace grew, so did the volume of their moans and soon their living room was filled with the noise of him slamming into her and their whimpers and groans of pleasure.

“Hermione, gonna cum in you …” he grunted, unable to slow down.

“Yes, Ron, yes. I’m so close as well. Just keep going … Do it harder …”

“Shit!” he cursed through clenched teeth, his cock throbbing inside her perfect pussy. Feeling his sac tighten, he extracted his left arm from under her and pressed his palm to the cushion so he could lift his body a bit from hers and go harder, like she had requested. His eyes darted to her tits, which, no longer constrained by his own chest, were now jiggling deliciously. Feeling his self-restrain about to break, he moved his right hand to her left one and squeezed it eagerly, relishing their softness and firmness. “Fuck, Hermione, I’m about to cum — I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Harder, Ron! Fuck me harder!” she begged almost desperately, her hands flying to his clenching, pale ass and helping him every time he thrust into her.

“Hermione, fuuuuuuuck!” he shouted as he came powerfully, his dick shooting spurt after spurt with every contraction of his bollocks. Trying to keep control of his body amongst the onslaught of amazing feelings his orgasm was causing, he fought his desire to simply fall over her and kept going, pressing his groin harder against hers so he could rub her clit with while he continued to fuck her pussy. His orgasm was almost ebbing away when she pressed him against her as hard as she could and bucked her hips wildly, getting the needed friction to fall over the edge. Her body seized under his and Ron watched, enraptured, as her eyes grew bigger and her mouth opened in a silent scream of utmost pleasure while her spasming pussy finished milking his cock.

“Oh, gods, Ron …” she sighed happily, a satisfied smile appearing on her face while her body finally relaxed under his. “Mmmh, that was wonderful. I really love when you make me cum multiple times.”

He smirked at her. Even when he had been the happiest with his job as an Auror, making Hermione cum had always been the thing he was most proud of. Maybe it was stupid, but there was nothing comparable to giving her pleasure no one else could. “I am to please,” he replied, and lowered his head to give her a long kiss that started soft, but soon grew more passionate as Hermione grabbed his head and pushed it down towards hers. At the same time, she clenched her inner muscles, causing her softening cock to start growing again.

“Someone isn’t satisfied yet,” she commented teasingly.

“Maybe because someone else is using tricks,” he replied. She clenched her muscles again, effectively massaging him and he groaned in pleasure. She chuckled, giving him a saucy look. “You want to play dirty, uh?” he asked. “Okay then.”

He slid out of her, making her moan in displeasure and hastily took off his trousers and boxers. Then he grabbed his wand and used it to lift her body in the air.

“Ron!” she protested, her eyes wide.

“You’ll see, dirty girl,” he said cheekily and moved the wand, making her spin on the air, and then positioned her so she was bending over the back of the couch, her ass sticking out with her skirt over it. Then, with another flick of his wand, he bound her hands on her back.

“Ron, release me!”

Ron tsked, eyeing her hungrily. He loved her when she was wearing just a skirt. Okay, this was not one of those that just reached mid-thigh, those ones were the best though, unluckily, she rarely used them, preferring the most professional, knee-length ones. However, it was sexy all the same. He could approach her and lift the fabric, revealing the perfect bum underneath. It was like opening a Christmas present, only much, much better.

His cock completely hard, he pondered for a moment what to do while she squirmed once more, demanding to be released. He ignored her pleas and walked around the couch until he as just in from of her. She lifted her head to look at him.

“Rooon! This isn’t funny, you prat!”

At her words, Ron frowned. “Prat, you called me?” he said, his tone dangerous. “Okay then. You must learn some manners. He grabbed her hair — carefully — and moved closer to her, so his cock was now pointing at her face. Then he pushed her head a bit so she was looking to it. “For starters, you’re gonna suck that cock, and suck it good,” he demanded. “Once you’ve cleaned me of your juices and I’m satisfied, I’m going to fuck you from behind. And only after I have cum inside you once more will I release you.”

“I’m not going to take that dirty cock in my mouth!” she shouted, looking up at him. Ron held her gaze, delightful to see a good amount of lust besides her defiance.

Adopting a menacing expression, her held his shaft with two fingers and slapped it against her lips, holding her head in place. “Oh, you’ll do. You’ll worship this cock, Hermione. Now open wide or I’ll leave you where you are, a pretty sight for anyone that comes out of the fireplace …”

“You can’t force me, you brute!”

“And I’ve got no intention to do so,” he replied calmly. “You’re going to open that mouth on your own and take me deep.”

She looked up once more, looking even more defiant, and he stared back, trying to convey his dominance. The staring contest lasted for almost a minute, and then, perhaps too tired to keep looking up, she lowered her head and faced his dick, opening his mouth in silent invitation.

Ron smirked, his cock twitching happily. “Good girl,” he said, nodding, and then slid into her hot, fantastic mouth. “Now suck it hard and give me pleasure.”

She looked up once more, still defiant, but, despite it, she began to suck, though rather softly. That wouldn’t do at all.

“Harder, Hermione. You pride yourself in being the best at everything. Let’s see if that applies to sucking cock.”

Hermione’s eyes darkened at his words, but she began to suck harder. She couldn’t touch him, but began to bob her head as much as she could in her position, swallowing hard every time he pushed forwards.

“Aaah, yes, that’s more like it,” he groaned in satisfaction, enjoying the sight as much as the act itself. “More, Hermione, more. Take more,” he demanded as he pushed a bit deeper. She began to suck hard and fast, applying such suction he feared she would extract the cum out of his balls without him orgasming, which felt simply amazing. Enjoying the blowjob immensely, he put both hands on her head and fucked her mouth while she sucked, covering his entire dick in her spit. However, after just a couple of minutes he had to stop, as he was getting too close, despite having come five minutes before. The image was simply too hot, and she was so damn talented with her mouth.

When she felt him retreat, she looked up at him, a mocking smile on her face.

“Already about to come, Ronald?” she asked disdainfully. “Can’t hold it in? There’s spells for premature ejaculation, you know …”

Ron scowled at her. “Premature —? Now you’ll see, dirty witch. Get ready.”

He walked to the other side of the couch and flipped her skirt up, revealing that perfect ass once more. Staring down at it hungrily, he began to knead both cheeks roughly, causing them to spread a bit at times and giving a good view of her tight, puckered hole. For a moment he thought about showing her what he was made of and fucking her in there, but then decided to continue with his original plan. He was going to make her cum, and cum hard, but only when she begged for it.

Rudely, he spread her legs a bit and then knelt on the rug, his face just in front of her pussy, which was leaking their combined juices, and then began to eat her out, burying his face between her cheeks.

“Aaah, Ron!”

Smiling inwardly, he started a fast tongue-fucking, moving his right hand so he could rub her clit in the way he knew would make her cum really quickly. And effectively, after only a minute she began to squirm hard, pressing her bum back against him. He gave it to her harder, dragging her to the edge and then …

Then he stopped and moved his face away, licking his lips and putting his hands back on her ass. Hermione let out a frustrated groan.

“Ronald!”

“What, about to cum already?” he said with a sneer. She turned her head to glare at him, but he just smirked at her. “Beg me to make you cum,” he said. “Beg me.”

“NO!”

“I’ll leave you like this, then.”

“Fine!”

“If you really want that …” he said, getting up. However, instead leaving, he kept caressing her ass with one hand. He moved the other between her legs and began to slide a finger along her slit. “It’s a shame, this pussy’s so wet …”

She looked forwards once more and let her head fall as she squirmed once more. After a bit, Ron focused on her clit and kept rubbing it, though in a lazier way. However, she was so worked up that she couldn’t help but push back, seeking more friction. “It seems to me that you really want to cum, Hermione … Beg me and I’ll make you explode.”

“N-no,” she refused, though with much less defiance than before.

Ron kept rubbing her for a bit and then lowered his head once more, crouching down to watch his finger work. Excited by the view, he used the other to part her buttocks and then buried his face between them, lapping at her butthole while he enjoyed the feel of her ass against his face.

“Roooon!” she hollered, bucking her hips. Ron pressed his tongue hard against her asshole while he kept rubbing her clit a bit harder, again pushing her towards an orgasm. However, like the first time, the moment he felt she was about to cum, he stopped.

“NO, NO, NO!” she protested, almost sobbing. “Asshole!” she yelled at him.

Ron laughed and spread her ass with both hands, licking her pucker again. “This is an asshole, Hermione. I’m just the guy giving you pleasure by licking it. Now, if you begged me, I could end this tortured and give you some relief …”

“You are suffering as well, Ronald! I felt how hard your cock was!”

“Yeah, but …” he trailed off, getting up. After a bit, she turned her head once more.

“But — what?”

“But I can wank, you see,” he finished, wrapping his own hand around his cock and stroking it leisurely. Her eyes focused on it, oozing hunger. “I can wank and cum all over that perfect ass of yours, and then leave you like that. Unless you beg me, of course …”

She didn’t reply, just kept glaring at him, though her eyes darted quite frequently to his hand. Sensing that she had to be on the verge of her breaking point, Ron moved closer to her and rubbed his tip between her cheeks while he kept moving his hand.

“Ahhh,” he moaned in satisfaction. “I’m gonna cum so hard over this perfect ass. Will mark it as mine …”

Hermione whimpered and Ron, smirking, slid his left hand back to her pussy, rubbing her folds and giving the occasional caress to her clit. He moved his hand a bit harder. “Shit, so close …”

“Okay, okay, you win, you git! Make me cum! Make me cum!”

“You called me a git?” he asked, stopping his stroking and raising an eyebrow at her. “Besides, those are not manners, you know …”

Hermione clenched her teeth to avoid saying something, and then, letting out a resigned sigh, looked directly into his eyes.

“Make — make me cum, Ron. Please. Make me cum. I need it, please …”

“Say it again.”

“Make me cum.”

“Say ‘please.’”

“Please, Ron. Please, fuck me and make me cum, I beg you!”

Grinning like an idiot, Ron pointed his dick at her sopping wet pussy and thrust hard, shoving it into her completely.

“Gods, yessss!”

“Fuck, your pussy is like a fucking furnace, so hot … Shit, gonna fuck you really hard, and you’re going to beg me for it!” he stated

“Yes, yes, Ron! Fuck me please! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

Ron began a hard, furious pounding while he massaged her ass in a rotating motion, spreading her cheeks with every cycle, which gave him an amazing view that only made him harder. In this position, she felt incredibly tight, every thrust sending waves of intense pleasure throughout his body. Hermione squirmed under his assault, consciously or unconsciously trying to free her hands, but to no avail.

“Ron, touch me, please!”

“No,” he grunted, giving her a hard, powerful thrust. “You’ll cum from my cock alone!”

“Oh, gods, Ron … Ron, please!”

“Cum for me, Hermione!” he ordered, slightly changing his angle so every time he thrusted his cock would rub that sweet spot inside her pussy. “Cum around my cock! Milk it!”

Hermione moaned and moaned, muttering incoherencies as she moved under him. She looked so good and felt so amazing that, normally, he would fear he would cum before her. However, she was so worked up after all his teasing that soon she was on the brink. Ron felt her pussy start to flutter around him and his grin only widened.

“Ohhh gods, Ron, I’m there! Oh, I’m there!”

“That’s it! Cum for me!”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck!” she shouted as her entire body convulsed in orgasm. Ron gripped her ass hard and pounded harder as she came, prolonging the already intense climax. The added intensity in his fucking, combined with her spasming pussy was too much for Ron, and he let himself get closer and closer. And the moment he felt her body sag over the back of the couch he took his cock out and wanked it fast and hard.

“Shit, here it is, Hermione! All over your sexy ass! Fuuuuuuck!” he shouted as he began to spurt, covering her round, firm cheeks in white globs of cum. “Shit, that was good,” he sighed in pleasure, rubbing the tip against her crack to clean it of the last drops. “Ahhh, you look fantastic with my cum on you, Hermione …”

Hermione didn’t respond, as she was panting as well. Knowing she had to be uncomfortable now, he reached for his wand, cleaned her ass and then unbound her arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked when she turned round and dropped onto the couch, tired.

“I’m more than okay,” she answered with a bright smile. “Ron Weasley, you might not the book-clever, but you certainly are amazing at sex.”

“I am, am I?” he replied with a smirk, feeling a foot taller than he was.

“You are. That said, however, I’m totally making you pay for the way you bound and teased me. So watch your back.”

Ron laughed and leaned over to kiss her.

“Thank you for this,” he said when he pulled away, looking much more serious.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. “Ron, I’m fairly sure we’re way past the point where you thank me for sex, you know.”

“I know. But, after the way things ended with Gerion and the Notts, I needed to forget for a while, and nothing takes my worries away like being with you.”

Hermione cupped his cheek and gave him a soft, loving kiss. “I’ll always be there for you, Ron, just like you always are there for me. And I know it was a tragedy that Anticus managed to kill Gerion, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but I still feel bad. If I had realised Amadeus’s wand was under his body …”

“You were focused on fighting Gerion. You couldn’t have realised that among the chaos.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. I suppose I need some time and a good rest, and tomorrow I’ll see it in better light.”

“Exactly,” she said, grinning at him. She gave him another kiss.

“I love you so very much, you know.”

“I kno—” she started to say, but she was interrupted by the loud growl from Ron’s stomach. “And that’s how a romantic moment ends,” she added with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “It’s been a long day …”

Hermione laughed. “Come on, Mr Weasley, let’s get dressed and prepare dinner to feed that insatiable monster living in your belly.”

“Can we make pizza? With extra cheese?”

Hermione shook her head as she put on her panties and blouse. “We’re not even married, and I’m already living with a child …” she muttered as she walked towards the kitchen.

“Hey, you love pizza as well!” he protested, following her in just his boxers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now the mystery is completely unveiled. I hope you liked the background story and the fight scene.  
> Now, as the title promises, this case has changed things for Harry and Ron, only one thing to wrap things up!  
> See you soon.


	10. ...And Then Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione faces the voting of her law while Ron deals with the end of his time with the Aurors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the last chapter at last! I must admit it took a bit longer to finish this fic than I had anticipated when I started it, so sorry for the delay.  
> Anyway, here is the end, and it’s really, really long (and that’s saying something, coming from me!) I thought about splitting it in two parts, but finally decided against it.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

“’Ermionee?” asked Ron when he was unpleasantly pulled out of dreamland by someone or something shifting on the bed quite violently. “Whachadoin?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

Ron blinked a few times, trying to clear his mind and looked at her, even though it was still rather dark. She was leaning against the headboard, her arms folded under her chest.

“What time is it?”

“Ten past six.”

Ron groaned. “What are you doing awake at this fucking hour?”

“I can’t sleep,” she said dejectedly. “I just — I can’t stop thinking about the voting.”

Grunting, Ron propped himself on his left elbow to look at her and let out a yawn. Yes, today the Wizengamot would finally vote the law. Hermione had come home rather late the day before, having spent the entire day in meetings, discussing the plan for her defence speech, the possible questions and the most appropriate responses; and then she had kept reading and working after eating just a sandwich for dinner despite Ron’s attempts to force her to eat more.

“You did a good job, Love.”

“I know, but that’s not enough, isn’t it?” she replied quite grumpily. “After all the horrible things The Prophet has been printing this week …” She shook her head, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“Hermione, you shouldn’t worry so much over this,” he said patiently. “I mean, even if the law doesn’t pass, it’s not the end of the world, you’ve already done —”

“Oh, it’s so easy to say for you!” she interrupted harshly, glaring at him. “You don’t get how important this is for me, Ron!”

“Of course I get it, I just —”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have said such an idiotic thing! I know what I did, but this law is supposed to wrap everything up, to really change things! It’s an integral, absolute change, not just patches! If I lose the voting it’ll be a complete failure, you don’t get how that feels when you’ve worked so much for something!”

After knowing her for so long, Ron knew that Hermione didn’t really mean what she was implying, yet he couldn’t help but get angry at her anyway.

“ _I don’t get how that feels_?” he replied, scowling at her. “I don’t get it, Hermione? You’re not the only one who worked hard to be where you are, I did as well to be a good Auror! And in case you’ve forgotten, in my last case a bound man was killed by someone in my custody! How do you think that felt, eh? Don’t you think that is a failure? And contrarily to this voting, I can’t ask for a replay of the fight so this time I can prevent that from happening!” he shouted.

Hermione stared at him, a bit shocked at his outburst, and then he could feel the shame creeping up her body. He shook his head and decided to get up, but she stopped him putting a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, Ron” she said sincerely. “I — I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I didn’t want to imply you don’t understand what hard work is or how failure feels.”

Ron refused to acknowledge her at first, but then sighed and turned his head to look at her apologetic face. “I know,” he said, his tone calm. “I’m sorry as well.”

“No, you’re right. Even if we lose the voting, I can try again, Ron. And you’ve been so helpful and supportive, I don’t want you to think you don’t understand how I feel, because I know you do; you know me better than anyone. It’s just — I worked so much for this, and I don’t know if I’ve got the energy to keep going like this for another six months until the law can be voted again. I wanted to finish this so we could focus on our wedding. I — I wanted to feel like I had really achieved something important before becoming your wife.”

Ron shifted a bit and sat up before reaching for her. She let him pull her against his body, her head resting on his shoulder with an arm under her back

“Hermione, Love, you’ve achieved more than most people do in a lifetime. I mean, you helped save the world when you were eighteen. If that’s not achieving something I don’t know what it is!”

“I know that, but —”

“I know,” he interrupted her, trying to sound calm. “And I get what you feel. Well, not exactly, but I know you and I understand you can’t help feeling this way. And for the record, I absolutely believe the law will pass, but, even if it doesn’t, you’ll end up victorious. And now that I am no longer an Auror, I could take care of the arrangements for the wedding, you know …” Hermione looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, her expression showing utter disbelief. Ron wanted to feel offended, but he knew he wouldn’t trust himself with that task. “Okay, okay, not everything, but I can do some things.”

She sighed. “I know. And you’re right, I know you are, but — I worked so hard to this law. It’s been my main target since I moved to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And just imagining Isolda Selwyn’s smug expressing is she wins …” She let out a feral growl.

“I get it, but you came to bed rather late last night, so you should rest a bit more to be on top form. Of course, you’re smarter half-asleep than most of them in their brightest day, but you know what I mean.”

At this, Hermione laughed. “Thank you, Love. And yes, I know I should rest more. But I can’t help feeling so worked up. I wish I could lie down and just fall asleep. I envy you that, I know.”

“Hey! I can get worried as well!”

“I wasn’t implying you can’t, but even how hard these past weeks have been for you, you managed to sleep well and rest. Sometimes I wish I could turn off my brain.”

“I suppose your brain is just too extraordinary,” he said, smiling, and moved his free hand to her thigh, caressing the soft skin under her nightdress. “But — know what? I happen to know a way for you to clear your mind and stop thinking,” he added with a smirk.

“Do you?” she asked, a hint of a smile curving her lips. “And which way is that?”

As a response, Ron’s hand slid up a few inches, his fingers caressing her inner thigh closer to her pussy. He heard her taking a deep breath and his dick twitched. Looking up at her face, they held gazes in the darkness while his fingers got closer and closer, until they grazed the trimmed hairs of her crotch. Ron groaned, delighted that she never wore underwear to bed, except when she had her period.

“I know a button here that can disconnect your brain. Want me to push it?” he asked, lightly caressing her folds. She gasped at the contact and opened her legs at the same time she nodded her head.

Grinning, Ron began to caress her sex and she moaned in response. Delighted at the effect, Ron rubbed her clit, causing her to buck her hips.

“Do you like this, Love?”

“Gods, Ron, yes … Don’t stop.”

“What about you getting rid of your anxiety by riding my face?” he asked huskily, his finger still moving in circles. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with lust.

“Really?”

“If you want …”

At once, she shifted on the bed and got on her knees, pushing down on his chest. “Scoot down, Ron. Quickly,” she demanded, looking more eager than Ron had ever seen her. However, he wasn’t going to comply. In fact, it was a real turn on, seeing her this way, so he did as told and lay flat on the bed. At once, she straddled his torso and then moved up until her knees were on both sides of his head. He would have a perfect view of her pussy if only there was a bit more light in the room. “Ready for me, Ronald?” she asked, her voice dripping with desire.

“Fuck my face.”

Letting out a moan of pure lust, she grabbed the headboard for support and lowered her crotch until her pubic hair was tickling his long nose. She teased him for a bit, her scent making his cock throb, and then sat on him, placing her pussy right on his mouth. Ron opened it immediately and began to lick and suck while she rubbed herself on him.

“Aaah, Ron, yesss! Gods, it’s been too long since last time I did this! Mmmnh, eat me!” she moaned, moving harder.

Ron growled against her and moved his hands to her bare ass, caressing it roughly while he ate her out with fervour, sometimes sticking his tongue out so she could fuck herself on it while his nose rubbed her clit.

As her arousal grew and her pussy — and his face — became wetter, she started moving harder, apparently not caring about his lack of air but only about her pleasure. She pressed herself down to get more friction, demanding him to eat her pussy faster, harder, _better_.

At some point, she placed her clit directly on top on his mouth and he pushed his tongue against it, lapping at it and letting her to rub herself against it, occasionally closing his lips around the little bud to suck on it. She moved steadily towards the precipice, her movements becoming less even and more erratic, so Ron grabbed her by the hips and held her against his face with force, sucking as hard as he could.

“Oh, oh, Rooon! Oh, yes, yes, this is what I needed! Gods, I’m about to cum all over your face!

Ron wanted to shout for her to cum, but he was unable to speak, so he just grunted as he sucked hard. Hermione’s body began to tremble atop him and she jerked her hips very hard, practically crushing his face against the mattress as she came undone.

“Fuuuck, RON! Ohh, fuuuuck!”

Ron smiled inwardly as she orgasmed, her juices running down his cheeks and neck, and kept sucking until she was completely spent. She allowed herself a few extra moments as she panted and then scooted down over his body, straddling his waist. Ron was about to ask her if it had been good (just for his own male pride) but he couldn’t as she claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss. She seemed to relish her own taste, as the kiss only grew more and more passionate as she savoured herself. Ron, whose cock was on the verge of exploding, moved his hands to her ass and clutched it tightly, enjoying the two perfect handfuls of flesh that were her cheeks and pressing her against his eager dick.

“Ron, that was heavenly, but I want your cock. In my pussy. Right now.”

“Fuck, yeah!”

They fumbled with his pants, lowering them just enough to free his member, and then she impaled herself on it and began to ride him hard without preambles.

“Fuck, Hermioneee!” he exclaimed, his eyes rolling on his sockets. “Merlin, you feel so fucking good, so tight!”

“Mmmh, Ron, I want to cum again! Gods, I’m going to come again!”

“Me too! Shit, Hermione!”

She gave him another kiss, though this was much shorter, and then sat up and began to bounce on his dick as if her life depended on it. Ron watched her, enthralled, and couldn’t help but move his hands to her tits, groping them hungrily. Hermione moaned again, but just a moment later she let out a groan of frustration and, slapping his hands away, she hastily took her top off and threw it away. “Now! Touch them now!” she ordered. At once, Ron’s hands flew back to her bouncing tits and squeezed them with relish. She let out a wail of pure pleasure and, though he would have sworn it wasn’t possible, rode him even harder, her ass slamming noisily against his thighs every time she pushed down.

“Shit, Hermione, I’m about to explode!”

“Me too, me too! Oh, ohhh, Rooooooon!”

“Cum on my cock, Hermione! Now!”

She lifted her bum until only his tip was inside and them slammed down as hard as she could. She repeated this a couple of times and then came, throwing her head backwards while she pressed herself against him hard, taking him as deep as possible while her body convulsed in absolute pleasure.

Ron helped her ride it out, massaging her breasts while he thrust upwards, until, sated and tired, she fell over him, using her hands to support herself

“Keep going!” she said, her voice hoarse. “Keep fucking me until you cum!”

Ron moved his hands to her ass and grabbed her buttocks roughly, pressing her against him while he began a frantic thrusting, his cock demanding immediate release. Hermione’s eyes rolled on her sockets as he pounded her pussy without mercy, seeking his release.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, Ron!”

“Fuck, Hermione, cumming! Ahh, fuuuuck, yeah! Yeah!” he shouted, giving her a few more thrusts as he emptied his balls in her greedy cunt.

“For Merlin’s sake, Ron, that was simply amazing,” she muttered, her forehead resting on his.

“Yeah.”

“Happy that I woke you up?” she asked, teasing.

Ron chuckled. “Well, let’s say you’re forgiven.”

She laughed as she got off his dick, and then, lying next to his body, snuggled against him, sighing happily.

“Feel better?” he asked her.

“Yes. I think I could fall asleep again …”

“Well, we can. For another half an hour or so.”

“Mmmh, good,” she muttered, already half-asleep.

When the alarm went off, forty minutes later, they had to make quite an effort to get out of bed. However, the moment she was on her feet, Ron could almost see the nervousness coming back to her and filling her with energy. She went to the bathroom and turned the shower on while Ron gathered enough willpower to extricate himself from the sheets. They shared a shower and then had breakfast before going to the Ministry.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her before they parted ways.

“Well, nervous, but better,” she answered, giving him a smile. “You really helped me.”

“It was a pleasure,” he said with a smirk. Then his expression turned serious and he cupped her cheek. “It’ll be all right,” he told her in a soft tone. “You’re the best.”

“Thank you. See you in a few hours, then?”

“I’ll be there.”

Hermione leaned up to press her lips against his in a brief kiss and then walked away. Ron watched her go for a few seconds before going to his own cubicle.

He sat down with a smile on his face, something that hadn’t happened in a while. In fact, he couldn’t remember when he had felt so relaxed and content at work. Despite still feeling bad about Gerion’s death, something which he had accepted he would have to live forever, yesterday he had had the best day in weeks (or even months!). Free of the pressure, he had just worked with Harry on the paperwork regarding the case. Well, actually, he had almost done it all by himself, as Harry had been getting acquainted with his new responsibilities and had spent half the day in meetings. Then they had interrogated Gèrald and Justine together. Looking completely defeated upon hearing about his father’s death, Gèrald had answered all questions, though there weren’t many. Ron and Harry had heard almost all they needed to tie all the loose ends.

Harry had been invited by Knowton to a work lunch, so Ron had decided to visit George and tell him he accepted the job and would start in about a week. George had beamed at the news, and they had spent the hour talking about the shop and their plans for it. He had gone back to the Ministry smiling and feeling excited in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Yes, undoubtedly, he had made the right choice resigning. This was exactly what he needed. And now, if Hermione’s law passed, they could focus on their wedding and their honeymoon and, in due time, even children.

He was still young, and felt quite inadequate to care for a baby, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of lying in their bed with Hermione and a tiny redheaded, curly-haired baby in her arms (or his) had an undeniable appeal.

Not right now, of course, he wanted to settle in his new job first, and he wanted to enjoy being alone with Hermione after getting married, but maybe in a year. Or two.

He was deep in those thoughts and fantasies when, at some point, his brain realised someone was calling him. He shook his head and turned round, seeing Ada.

“Hi,” he said.

“Where were you?” she asked, amused. “I called you three times.”

“Just thinking,” he responded, trying hard not to blush. “Do you need something?”

“Astoria Malfoy is here,” she informed him. “She says you sent her a letter yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding. He looked for the folder regarding Astoria’s case and then got up. He followed Ada, who pointed to the entrance of the office, where Astoria was standing, looking around with curiosity. “Thank you,” he told Ada before walking towards the young woman, glad that she had come alone and not with Malfoy.

As he approached her, he began to think about the contrast between how frail she looked and how lively and energic she was, and couldn’t avoid feeling bad for her. She didn’t deserve this curse that some madman had bestowed upon all his descendants. Yesterday, before starting working on the report, he had talked with Harry and he had gone to the destroyed cottage, wanting to find Arcante’s book before the whole place was cleaned up by workers from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He thought, and Harry agreed, that it wouldn’t do any good if a book filled with such dangerous magic was left around. And though that had been an important reason, Ron had been thinking about the remedy for the Greengrass curse Gerion had used on Gèrald. He had managed to find the book among the debris, but, unfortunately, it had been almost completely destroyed during the fight. He had asked Gèrald for the remedy during the interrogation, but he only remembered it involved a couple of potions and a spell, though he didn’t know anything about them, as Gerion had used it when he was just a young child. The cure, it seemed, was lost forever.

“Good morning, Mrs Malfoy.”

The woman smiled at him. “Good morning, Auror Weasley.”

“Please, follow me,” he asked, and led her to one of the meeting rooms. They sat at opposite ends of the table and Ron put the folder on top of it.

“So you caught my assailant, then?” she asked.

“We did. It was, as we suspected, Amadeus Nott.”

“He thought I was in league with my uncle Gerion, right?” she asked, sighing.

Ron nodded.

“My father was pretty upset about his death, even though they hadn’t talked in almost fifty years,” she commented. “Why did he do that? He was closer to the Notts than to us, after all.”

“That’s a secret for now,” said Ron, “but the details will be revealed during the trial. Anyway, regarding Amadeus, we have enough proof for conviction. Auror Potter and I heard him admitting it had been him the one to attack you, and we used _Priori Incantatum_ on his wand, and the spells he used match those of the attack you described. This is a standard offense and he’ll be processed whether you decide to press charges or not, but, if you do, the sentence most surely will be more severe.”

“I don’t want to press charges. I forgive him,” she replied nonchalantly, shocking Ron completely.

He stared at her, open-mouthed. “Sorry — what?”

“I won’t press charges.”

Ron kept staring. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I am. If I believed he would go after me again, I wouldn’t hesitate to use all my resources to send him to prison for a long time, but I don’t think he will. I don’t know what happened between them and Gerion, but this — _animosity_ is not good. I don’t want to add to it, Auror Weasley. Sending him to prison won’t help me in any way, so, why bother? Besides, his daughter was in mortal danger, so it would be a bit unfair to act as if he was on his right mind.”

“Well, I won’t deny I didn’t expect this at all,” confessed Ron.

She smiled. “Because I’m married to Draco? Or because I am a Slytherin?”

“Both,” he admitted.

Astoria’s smile widened. She seemed amused rather than offended.

“Well, I suppose he’ll try to change my mind, but I don’t care. I don’t want to waste time in trials and petty revenges, Auror Weasley. Whatever happened between my uncle and the Notts, that must end. Hate and revenge never does any good.”

“You must know that he’ll probably go to prison anyway,” Ron told her. “He tried to kill Gerion, and he attacked you. Though, taking into account his daughter was dying, the Wizengamot might be forgiving. But he’ll probably be sentenced to a couple of years in Azkaban. He used the Killing Curse, even if he wasn’t successful.”

“If I tell the Wizengamot I forgive him, would it help?”

“Er — well, I suppose,” Ron said, completely caught by surprise. “I mean, I think so.”

“Then I will.”

Ron stared at her, unable to say anything. She let out a soft laugh, amused at his reaction.

“I see the way people looks at me when I go out, Auror — Ron. Can I call you Ron?” When Ron nodded, she continued, “Well, people look at me with distaste just for marrying Draco. And I know the things he did during the war. I know the way he was. I won’t excuse him saying that it was the way he was raised and all that. And I know he didn’t change just because one day he realised the wrong of his ways, but because the world he and his parents had been helping create was simply a nightmare, and not just for Muggles and Muggleborns, but for everyone. But the case is that he changed, I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. And I don’t want my children, if I have them, to live with that heritage. I want them away from the influence of Lucius. I want to change things and show people we’re not monsters just for having the surname Malfoy. This might be a tiny step, but it’s a step. So well, this is not entirely selfless on my part. I’m still a Slytherin, after all.”

“Still, it shows a good heart. And courage.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay then. I’ll make sure someone keeps you informed about the trial.”

At this, she frowned, not understanding. “Why can’t you inform me? You’re in charge of the case.”

“The trial will be held in about two weeks, but I resigned from my position as an Auror and won’t be here after next week.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Well, good luck then — with whatever you decide to do.”

“Thank you.”

Astoria got up. They exited the meeting room and walked to the entrance of the office.

“I want a better world for my children, Ron,” she confessed to him. “So I really hope that Equality Law your fiancée has written passes,” she added, and let out a laugh. Ron gave her a strange look, not understanding where the funny part was. “Lucius would have a heart attack if he heard me say such a thing, but it’s what I think. I hope it passes, and if it does — who knows? Maybe one day a Malfoy can be friends with a Weasley at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” he said, still in awe of her.

She shook his hand and gave him a smile.

“Thank you for everything.”

“No, thank you. Without the information you and your sister gave me, we wouldn’t have solved the case in time.”

She nodded and then walked away. Ron followed her with his eyes, lamenting, more than ever, that he couldn’t help her get rid of the curse.

* * *

At half past eleven, Ron and Harry exited the Auror Office and headed for the Meeting Hall. Giving the articles in _The Prophet_ , both expected a lot of people and reporters would be there, and that’s why they had decided to go early. However, when they arrived at the lobby, they froze in place at the sight of the multitude crowding the room.

“Bloody fuck,” he muttered, watching around.

“Yeah,” nodded Harry. “How are we going to go through all this?”

“You should carry your cloak everywhere.”

“Definitely,” agreed Harry. “Well, let’s walk normally. Hopefully, they won’t realise —”

“Mr Potter! Mr Weasley!” a reporter shouted. “A quick word please!”

“Fuck!” cursed Ron, when near a hundred pair of eyes focused on them.

“Mr Potter! Do you feel vindicated now that Gregory Goyle has been released?”

“As Deputy Head, what do you think about his alleged intentions to sue the Auror Office for unjustified detention?”

“We’re here just to attend the voting, please,” muttered Harry through gritted teeth.

“Mr Weasley, what do you think about the voting? Are you here to support your girlfriend? What do you think about the rumours that point to her having an affair with Mr Potter?”

“That’s — that’s — Just leave me the hell alone!” Ron bellowed, making efforts not to take his wand and curse them into next year.

“It’s you who’re spreading such rumours!” exclaimed Harry, angry. “Now, if you don’t mind, we want to get to the Meeting Room in time, thanks!”

Ron went through the mob surrounding them, not caring if he stepped on feet or _accidentally_ elbowed someone. Not without a considerable effort, they managed to get past them. When they entered the room, however, they found themselves face to face with Rita Skeeter, who was all smiles.

“Harry! Ronald! What about a few words before the voting?”

“We have nothing to say to you,” hissed Ron, giving her a murderous glare.

“Tell us something, Rita. Doesn’t the _Prophet_ gets fed of you publishing something just to be proven false a few days afterwards?”

Rita’s expression faltered, but she managed to keep smiling, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“ _The Prophet_ wants readers, and the readers love my articles, Harry.”

“Sure they do,” said Harry, and they went to occupy their seats. Some members of the Wizengamot were already there, and others were arriving. Five minutes after they had come, Ron saw Isolda Selwyn enter, surrounded by another ten members and looking as smug as possible. Rita quickly went to her and asked her about the voting and the law. Isolda responded politely, calmingly explaining that she expected the law not to pass for the sake of Wizarding Britain.

“See that?” asked Harry, his eyes fixed on the two witches. “They seem pretty friendly, don’t you think? I wonder how much Selwyn paid Skeeter for all this publicity.

“That should be illegal,” grunted Ron.

“Yeah, but it isn’t,” said Harry. “As long as _The_ _Prophet_ tolerates it, she’ll be fine.”

At ten minutes to twelve, they were joined by Ron’s dad. By then, the room was completely full of people, and all members of the Wizengamot were seated.

“Good morning, boys,” said Ron’s dad. “Merlin, it’s complete madness out there, I feared I wouldn’t be able to pass through the crowd.” He looked around and then focused on Ron. “How was Hermione this morning? Nervous?”

“Yes,” nodded Ron. “I managed to calm her a bit, but you know how she gets.”

As he finished talking, Kingsley appeared, accompanied by Percy, and then, a minute later, Hermione and Knowton. Hermione was carrying a folder and walked to her position without looking at anyone, completely focused. Ron could almost hear her repeating the key points of her speech in her mind.

Finally, the Chief Warlock got up and ordered everyone to get silent.

“I, Mellitous Bangard, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, declare open the session of the twentieth of February, 2004. The first and only point is the voting for the Equality Law, presented by Hermione Jean Granger, Head of the Legal Office. Mr Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Minister for Magic, will give the introductory speech. Minister Shacklebolt, you’ve got the floor.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” said Kingsley, getting up. “Wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, citizens of Wizarding Britain, today is a day that will be marked on the calendar for generations to come. We’re here to vote the most important law in years, the culmination of one of the pillars of my administration: to remove all traces of discrimination and bias from our laws and build a better world for wizards, witches and all magical creatures, regardless of birth or origin. This program has been brilliantly led by Ms Granger here, and this law represents the consummation of those changes, for which she has been rooting all her life. During the past week, all of us have read many things about this law —” he threw a subreptitious glance at Rita Skeeter “— but the only truth is in here,” he finished, lifting a folder with the contents of the law. “It’s got my full support, and I ask all of you to vote yes to its approval.”

Kingsley sat down, and Bangard got up again. “Before Ms Granger can present her final defence of the law, I give floor to any member of the Wizengamot that wants to defend the _no_ in the voting.” He looked around and, unsurprisingly, Isolda Selwyn got up. “Ms Selwyn,” Bangard said in greeting.

Selwyn cleared his throat. “Fellow wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, I won’t bore you with the legal details of the law, which all of us have read. I won’t lie: on a first, superficial read, this law looks good. Certainly, Ms Granger and the Minister have made an excellent work of marketing with it, starting with the name. I mean, who would want to vote against _equality_?” she asked, and made a pause as she perused the faces around her, letting the words sink before continuing. “But let’s forget about the name for a moment and think if this law brings the solution to a problem or creates a new, bigger one.” She made another pause for effect and then went on, “Let’s ask ourselves — what does equality means? How far we do take it? Let’s talk, for example, about how the law facilitates the integration of Muggle relatives into our world. On a first look, it might sound good. But — why stop there? During these last years, Ms Granger here has been presenting law after law, all of them looking for more equality and fighting discrimination, which, of course, is praiseworthy.” She made a brief stop and gave Hermione a smile. A smile that, in Ron eyes, conveyed clearly what she really thought of Hermione’s work. “Now we’re presented with this one, hearing that it is the culmination of the changes the new Administration is pursuing. But — is that true? Will it truly end here? Because if we’re talking about equality, why should the father of a young wizard or witch be allowed at Hogwarts while a cousin forbidden to do the same? Is that equality? And if we go down that road, where do we stop? Where do we put the limit? Each new law just pushes the limits a bit further, and if we continue down this path, I assure you that the day may come when Muggles invade our world completely. I’ve got nothing against Muggles, but their customs, their lifestyle, their traditions, are very different from ours. Do we want that exposure, after the efforts we made centuries ago to keep our world separated and a secret?” she asked, giving everyone in the room a few seconds to think about her words. “And if that happens, would we achieve the equality Ms Granger affirms she’s after? What would that mean for those coming from wizarding families? When in need of guidance, will these newcomers turn towards people they will see as alien to them, or will they look up to someone like them?” She looked pointedly at Hermione. “Ms Granger, you claim to have only the best interests of the Wizarding world at heart, but, after what has been revealed this week, let me doubt that. Oh, I’m sure you had those ideals when you started, but, as it always happens, power corrupts, doesn’t it? So, if your law passes, will it really benefit us, or will it benefit you and your personal ambitions?” She left the question in the air and, with a curt not towards the room, she sat down.

“Thank you, Ms Selwyn,” said Bangard. “Anyone else?” he asked the other members. When no one showed any wish to talk, he looked at Hermione. “Ms Granger, turn for your final defence of the law. Once you finish, the members will have a turn to ask any questions before the final voting.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” she said, getting up. “Thank you for your exposition, Ms Selwyn; I appreciate your concerns.” On the seats, Isolda Selwyn gave Hermione a tight-lipped smile, gracefully taking the jab. “When I worked on this law and I pictured this day, I saw myself discussing the finer points of the law, or clearing doubts about concepts and procedures. But thanks to recent events —” she glanced at Rita Skeeter, who was writing with a smile of satisfaction on her face “— I’ve been forced to change tactics. Yes, I could talk about the law and its benefits, which is the reason I am here. But I am realistic, and know that everyone, or almost everyone, will be thinking about those articles, or my potential gain or so-called ambitions. I could say many things, but what those who oppose law will say is that, as I am Muggleborn, I’m biased. So I won’t defend the law myself. I’ll ask someone else — not a Muggleborn — to talk to you.”

“Another speech by Mr Potter, Ms Granger?” asked Isolda Selwyn with a smile of sufficiency.

“Ms Selwyn —” started Bangard in a reprimanding tone. Selwyn, however, paid him no attention and kept talking.

“Smart move, using the new Deputy Head of the Auror Office to help you. Certainly, you’re a master at marketing,” she stated, and the silence in the room was suddenly broken by a myriad of whispers.

“Ms Selwyn, this is not your turn!” shouted Bangard, glaring at her. “If you break the protocol again, I won’t hesitate in having you Silenced,” he warned her.

Selwyn nodded, but she had already said what she needed to counteract the effect of Harry’s supposed intervention. Only that Ron knew Harry wasn’t going to intervene. The noise in the room grew as people kept talking among themselves, louder and louder.

“Silence! I demand silence, this is a legislative session!” shouted Bangard, looking at the attendants. “Either you shut up, or I’ll order you out and turn the session into a closed one!"

“Who’s she talking about?” Harry whispered to him while Hermione waited for the whispers to fade.

“Dunno,” said Ron.

“You don’t?” Harry asked, surprised. Ron shook his head.

When the room was in complete silence once more, Hermione looked at Isolda and gave her a bright smile. “Certainly, Harry would come down and defend the law if I asked him to, but you’re wrong. He’s half-blood and lived with Muggles for many years. No, I mean a Pureblood, Ms Selwyn. From an old family, I must add. I call for Ms Calista Nott!” she exclaimed, leaving every wizard and witch in the hall completely stunned.

“ _Did she say Calista Nott?_ ” asked Harry in a low voice full of surprise.

“Yeah,” nodded Ron, equally shocked.

A moment later, the same door from where Hermione had entered opened and Calista Nott walked in, accompanied by one of the wizards from the Legal Office. She stopped for a moment, looking a bit nervous under all the stares, but then adopted her regal demeanour and moved towards where Hermione was standing. As she walked, Ron couldn’t help but notice that she looked paler and, if possible, even thinner that two days ago, and there was an unmistakable air of deep sadness around her. Ron looked at the members of the Wizengamot. On her seat, Isolda Selwyn was staring at Calista with a look of complete disbelief. Kingsley and Knowton, however, were smiling.

“I suppose most of you know who Ms Nott is, but, for those who don’t, she is the eldest daughter or Anticus Nott and Martha Greengrass, two of the most ancient Pureblood families in Britain. She has, very kindly, agreed to tell us of her experiences and what this law truly means.” She looked at the other woman. “Ms Nott … Calista — whenever you’re ready.”

“Chief Warlock, this is quite irregular,” protested Isolda.

Bangard looked at her. “Ms Selwyn, my patience is running thin with your interruptions. Ms Granger, as proposer of the law, has every right to call anyone to defend it — as do you to argue against it — as long as she has informed the Wizengamot in due time, which she has,” he explained, lifting a piece of parchment.

“But her father and brother were arrested and they’re awaiting trial,” Isolda added.

Bangard glared at her. “Enough! Ms Nott has not been accused of anything, so she’s got the right to be here. And this is my last warning, so you’d better behave.” He looked at Calista an gave her a reassuring smile. “Ms Nott, the floor is yours.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock,” said Calista in a polite, yet firm voice. She took a deep breath and then looked at the Wizengamot, her eyes focusing on Isolda Selwyn.

“Isolda, dear, let’s skip the niceties. I had a rather rough week, and I’m not in the mood to play games like those you play with Ms Granger. I’ve known you since you were a little baby, and you’re as concerned about Muggles and Muggleborns as much as I am about who wins the Quidditch league in Chile. Yes, my father is arrested, and so is Amadeus. And Callum was already in prison. He was sent there along your dear brother Marius and a few other Death Eaters, so, if relatives of Death Eaters can’t be here, You and me should leave the hall and go to the canteen and catch up.”

“Holy fuck,” cursed Ron in awe, seeing how the colour was drained from Isolda Selwyn’s face. In fact, she looked exactly as if Calista had used the same spell she had used against Theo during his and Hermione’s visit to the Notts’.

“Couldn’t say it better myself,” added Harry, looking delighted. “Serves her right.”

Calista remained silent for a bit, either to put her thoughts in order or to wait for the whispers and murmurs in the room to die, and then continued.

“My father was a Death Eater, yes. He was never sentenced before, as he had partially retired when the Dark Lord started his campaign of terror more than thirty years ago. But he was one of the first, in fact. And how could he not be, being the nephew of the man who had written _The Pureblood Directory_?” At this, the room became noisy again with the sum of all the shushed talks and murmurs.

“Silence! I demand silence!” shouted Bangard, losing his patience.

Calista looked at Rita Skeeter, whose quill was moving at top speed. “You want some juicy story? Well, here you’ve got a true one. This has been a rumour for decades, but now I confirm that indeed it was my great-uncle Cantankerus the one who wrote it. It’s been a secret kept by my family for very long, but I’m already tired of secrets. My family has kept many, terrible ones, but that ends today.”

She made another pause, taking a deep breath, and then looked up, facing the fifty members of the Wizengamot that were watching her with absolute interest.

“Like many children in many other Pureblood families,” she started, “I was raised to think about Muggles as lesser creatures; to consider Muggleborns as underserving of Magic, thieves of our knowledge and destroyers or our traditions and the world we had built. I grew up believing that the word Pureblood meant everything. In a world contaminated by Muggles, having pure blood was the utmost honour, and to keep it that way was much more than an obligation.

“So yes, I grew up hating Muggles, believing that it was unfair that we had to hide our world from them, when they should be serving us or working for our amusement.” She let out a sad chuckle and shook her head. The room was now as silent as a tomb, with every wizard and witch focused on her.

“But, as a young girl, I was rather rebellious, liking to break the rules just for the sake of it. I was also quite adventurous and so, when I was barely twenty years old I decided to go into the Muggle world, to see the Muggles and the way they lived by myself, as, before that, I had only seen them in passing during my visits to King’s Cross to take the Hogwarts Express.

“Of course, though I managed to get Muggle clothes thanks to one of our elves, I didn’t manage to get my outfit right, and I suppose I looked rather odd to them. At first I ignored the looks, simply awed at the way the Muggles lived, in how loud and populated their cities were and astounded by their technology. But, at some point, a group of teenagers began to laugh at me and make fun of me, asking me where was the asylum from which I had escaped.” She shook her head at the memory, and Ron was surprised to see that she was smiling a bit, as if she were recalling a good memory. “I should have continued walking, but I was a witch who had been taught that I was superior to those people. They had a numerical advantage, but I had my wand and magic. What could they do against me? So I insulted them back, calling them filthy creatures that should kiss the ground I walked on. Well, let’s just say they didn’t take that well. They came towards me, and it was then that I realised I couldn’t use my wand in the Muggle world, or I’d be arrested for violating the Statue of Secrecy, unless I was in grave danger. That realisation left me frozen for a moment, at it was enough: two of the girls of the group grabbed my arms and held them behind my back while the others laughed, joking about discovering what I had under my strange clothes. I admit that, for a moment, I felt really scared, though I quick realised I could Disapparate and then they would be the ones terrified by my power. But before I decided to act, a man of about my age approached us and yelled at them, demanding them to release me. They told him to mind his own business, but he didn’t relent and faced the gang. In the end, they freed me and left.

“I just stood there, breathing rapidly, still trembling a bit. My experience with Muggles so far had been horrible so, when the man approached me, I retreated, glaring at him, and put my hand in the pocket of my coat, ready to take it out and curse him. I wasn’t going to get caught by surprise twice. Noticing my reaction, he stopped and smiled reassuringly at me, lifting his hands in a strange way.

“He assured he wasn’t going to harm me, that he only wanted to make sure I was all right. He told me his name was Gordon Speard and asked for mine. I didn’t respond at first, but there was something about him … He looked really kind, and had helped me, and well, I must say he was rather attractive …”

She fell silent for a bit, and Ron could tell that, in her mind, she was seeing him again. He tried to imagine how that would feel, remembering the love of your life after decades. How would it feel to tell a group of strangers, after thirty years, how he had met Hermione if he lost her? A shiver ran down his body, and Harry looked at him, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and they focused their attention back on Calista.

“In the end, I ended up telling him I was fine, and that my name was Calista. He then asked me if I wanted some tea, and I realised that I really did, so I let him invite me to a cup in a cafeteria nearby. He asked me where I was from, though he never asked about my clothes, though I could tell he was really curious about them. Of course, by then I had seen many Muggles, enough to realise that, to them, I must look as if wearing a nightgown with an open travelling cloak, a hat on my left hand and a sock hanging from an ear,” she joked, and many people in the room sniggered. “Anyway, I told him a story about being an orphan who had lived in an orphanage until very recently, and that I had no other clothes, but I had really wanted to see the city. He smiled at that, and we kept talking. I was truly surprised by how caring and funny he was, how open and lively, so different to what I was accustomed to in the Pureblood circles in which I had grown. My relatives and friends, myself included, would have looked with disdain towards someone dressing inappropriately. Yet this man, despite being impeccably dressed, didn’t seem to have a problem sitting with me, even though the almost everyone in that café was staring at me. And that’s how I got to know him, and when I told him I should leave he asked me if he could see me again, and I agreed, though I knew I shouldn’t. But there was something undeniable good in him, and he was so open, that I simply couldn’t say no. So in the next weeks I would leave my house and meet him, and he took me to many things I had never seen, thinking I was in awe just because I had lived in a very strict orphanage. I — I made him believe I really hated to talk about that place, so he never asked much about my life, just about what I liked or wanted to do. I found myself eagerly waiting for the next date every day, wanting to go back to him, to his laugh and his cheeriness and all the things he could show me; to that world that had always been there but I was just discovering. And then, one day, a couple of months after our first encounter, he kissed me, and the moment he did I realised I had fallen in love with him. That night I cried until I fell asleep from pure exhaustion, knowing that there was no way I could date — let alone marry — a Muggle. I thought about not seeing him again, but the idea was simply horrible and, since the moment I had started to spend time with him I found the life in my house dull and uninteresting. So I rebelled against that idea, about everything my family had stood for, against my own upbringing, and went back to him. Our relationship progressed and though I knew I would have to make a decision sooner rather than later — to leave him or to tell him I was a witch — I just postponed it, simply wanting to enjoy the present.”

She took a deep breath.

“Until I found out I was pregnant,” she blurted out, and many people in the room gasped in shock.

“I hid it for a while, but, in the end, I had to tell my father,” she said, and let out a deep sigh. “Well, let’s say that it wasn’t pretty. My father was livid, telling me if word got out of what I had done, it would cause the fall of the Nott name and that it would bring such shame upon the family we would never recover. He told me that the Dark Lord would never allow us to be by his side, that we would be cast aside or worse, be labelled as Blood Traitors, and in the new regime He would create we would be pariahs among the other families. He told me clearly he wouldn’t allow that to happen and demanded me to stop seeing Gordon at once and that I should have to hide my pregnancy and then give the child up.

“At those words, I simply shouted back, telling him that I would never do that, that he didn’t have any idea of what he was asking me. And then he took me completely by surprise, taking me into his arms and telling me that he understood more than I could know, but that, sometimes, we had to make sacrifices for the sake of the f-family. If word spread out, we could lose everything, and he couldn’t promise the Dark Lord wouldn’t demand the — the death of the c-child. Did I want t-that?”

At this point, Calista was openly crying.

“Of c-course I didn’t want t-that,” she said between sobs. Hermione approached her and, putting a hand on her shoulder, passed her a handkerchief. Calista muttered a feeble ‘thank you’ and blew onto it. She took a moment to compose herself before saying ‘sorry’ and continuing with her story.

“So I caved in. Despite no longer believing in Pureblood supremacy, I didn’t want to be the reason for the downfall of my family, and just imagining Gordon or my baby dead was too much. I should have fought, I should have left, but I didn’t. So I simply sent Gordon a letter telling him I couldn’t see him anymore. He didn’t know where I really lived, so he couldn’t answer. After that, I became a recluse, and only left the mansion once, thanks to one of my elves, to check on him, a couple of weeks later. I suppose I needed to say goodbye to him in a way, even if I couldn’t talk to him or let him see me, but seeing him broke my heart again. Gone was the funny, bright man I had known; instead of that, I found someone that looked defeated and sad and lost. I went back to my mansion and cried harder than ever in my life, except for the moment I had to —” she gulped loudly “to give my baby a-away.”

“Ms Nott, you can make a pause if you need it,” said Hermione kindly.

“No, no. I’m — I’m all right. I just want to get this out of my chest,” she assured. Hermione nodded and Calista looked up at the members of the Wizengamot once more. “I was raised in a family of Pureblood fanatics, but I was never happier than those seven months I was with Gordon discovering the Muggle world. And then, after I was forced to leave him and give up my son, my brother Callum finished Hogwarts and joined the Death Eaters, and I only wanted to yell at him, to slap him, to tell him he had no idea and was nothing but an idiot. But I didn’t. You can add that to the list of things I was too coward to do. And just two days ago I learned that my older brother Robert, supposedly dead as a baby before I was even born, had been left in an orphanage because he was a squib. I learned that the very same day I lost my only son, the only proof of the time I spent with the love of my life.

“Pureblood, Muggle, Muggleborn, half-blood, squib,” she spat with distaste. “They’re just words! Only words! They meant nothing!” she yelled at the Wizengamot. “My entire family was destroyed by this lie about Pureblood supremacy! If my parents had learned what I did in those months with Gordon, they shouldn’t have had to give away their son! I could have kept mine, and I’d be happily married to Gordon instead of living in constant regret! Callum wouldn’t be in prison, Amadeus wouldn’t have to face trial, Gerion should be here, with us and his own family! This damn bigotry has done nothing but destroy lives! Who knows how many stories like mine are out there? Or how many Muggles feel they’re losing their children because they can’t be fully part of their world? It’s time to put and end to this! I couldn’t save my own son, because of my own cowardice, but Ms Granger helped me see that I can help others. She asked for my help, and yesterday I met with her and read her law. And when I did, I didn’t see anyone getting power, or becoming popular. What I saw was that, had that law existed when I was young, maybe I would be happy instead of feeling like I’m a walking corpse. I’d live with my family happily instead of with constant grief. I’ve heard, during al my life, the same nonsense about traditions that I heard about today, and I can tell you that those traditions mean nothing, NOTHING when compared to human life and happiness. So forget about that and think about the possibilities, about a better world for you and your children. If I had been faithful to my upbringing, I wouldn’t have met Gordon, and, despite how things ended, I can never regret how happy he made me or the things I learned. I just wish I could have showed him my world like he showed me his. So vote yes. Don’t deny your children the opportunity to meet amazing people, be they Muggle, Muggleborn, Pureblood or squibs. My son was raised by Muggles, and I only got to see his — his m-mother once, at the hospital, but I could tell how much she cared about him. And now that mother has lost her son as well. I am a Pureblood. She’s Muggle. But we both loved John and we both are suffering his loss. I can’t fix the mistakes of my past, and it’s hard to change the minds of those who grew with the same beliefs as me, but if this law is approved, it means changes in all aspects of our lives, with a great emphasis in education. And this way maybe one day children won’t be raised as me — as many of us — have been … Children that, hopefully, won’t understand how it is possible for a mother to — to — to give up his son just because of the blood of his father.”

She made another pause, clearly affected.

“Let the future wizards and witches be happy and not bitter, let them love and not hate,” she said after a bit, her voice low and weak. “Don’t force them to live with the kind of regret I carry. Don’t be cowards like me. Change the world for the better. Vote yes,” she finished, and then sat down, exhausted.

The room fell completely silent for a moment, the ambient still charged with the sadness of the story, until the Chief Warlock realised he should say something and got up.

“Thank — thank you for your — your intervention, Ms Nott,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You may go if you will. Someone will give you a cup of tea, if you need one.”

“Thank you, Chief Warlock, but I’d rather stay until the voting.”

“Geoffrey, please, bring Ms Nott a cup of tea,” Bangard asked, looking to a blonde man standing next to the door. The man nodded and left. “Ms Granger, your turn to finish.”

Hermione nodded and got up, wiping her eyes.

“First of all, I want to thank Ms Nott for sharing this story with us. I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been for her to speak about this in public, especially taking into account what she’s endured these past days. I think that her words express what I pursue with this law much more clearly than any legal speech I could give. It has been insinuated,” she said, and threw a pointed glance at Rita Skeeter, “that I have ulterior motives to get this law passed, that I’ve got selfish reasons. Well, it’s true: I don’t want to be tortured again while I’m being called a Mudblood; I don’t want to have to send my parents to the other side of the world because they are Muggles. Those are my selfish reasons, Ms Selwyn. Now, if you think I’m in this for power, or money, let me tell you I’ve received job offers that would mean a much larger salary than any post inside the Ministry — Minister for Magic included — would give, yet here I am.

“Thank you,” she finished and sat down next to Calista, who had received her tea and was now taking a sip.

Bangard got up once more and addressed the Wizengamot. “Does anyone have any questions regarding this law?”

His question was met with profound silence. Isolda Selwyn was looking down, her face screwed. Bringing Calista had been an amazing move, one for which she had no response, and Ron couldn’t feel prouder of the woman he was going to marry.

“Let’s vote, then. Those in favour of the approval of the Equality Law, raise your hands.”

Ron looked once more at Hermione, who had got up and looked really nervous, and then, feeling quite anxious himself, raised his eyes to the magical counter. The members of the Wizengamot began to raise hands, the firsts being Kingsley and Knowton, and the number in the counter started to grow. Nine … seventeen … thirty-two … forty-three …

It stopped at forty-four, and Ron felt his face split into a wide grin. He looked at Hermione and could almost see the tears streaming down her face.

“With forty-four favourable votes out of fifty, the Wizengamot approves the Equality Law as Law 2004/3. Congratulations, Ms Granger,” stated Bangard, smiling at Hermione.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice hoarse, just before the entire room broke into a thunderous applause. Ron, Harry and Ron’s dad got up as well, clapping harder than anyone else. In the middle of the room, Ron saw Hermione grab Calista’s hand and mutter something to her. Calista nodded, a hint of a smile breaking through her sad expression, then she squeezed Hermione’s hand and left the room. As the applause diminished in intensity, Ron and Harry raced down stairs between the benches to approach Hermione. Ron glanced at Rita Skeeter, who seemed positively shocked and rather displeased, which only made him grin wider. He then looked up towards were Isolda Selwyn had been seating, and saw her already leaving the room, her expression murderous. Well, not even all of those who had come with her into the room had voted against the law, so it was understandable.

“Congratulations, Hermione!” Ron heard Harry exclaim before he enveloped her in a tight hug. “Brilliant!”

She beamed, returning the hug. “Thank you, Harry.”

Ron let his dad congratulate her, and, when he moved to talk to Percy, he finally had his turn.

“You are amazing,” he told her, whispering into her ear as he hugged her tightly. “Really, really amazing.”

“I did nothing. It was all Calista’s words,” she said when they pulled away.

“Yeah, you just directed the writing of the law and presented it,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “But about Calista, why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”

“Well, I wasn’t completely sure she would really be up for it. The day you solved the case I talked to her when you left the room and told her she could help prevent what had happened to her from happening again, and she agreed to meet me yesterday, but well, telling all that in front of the Wizengamot … If she ended up not coming I wanted to be prepared.”

“That was a master move, Love. No one saw that coming. You should have seen Selwyn’s face when she left.”

Hermione beamed. “Well, my future husband is a brilliant chess player, and I learned something these past years, you know, even if I’ve never defeated you.”

Ron grinned and gave her a quick kiss.

“Hermione, congratulations!” they heard Kingsley said as he approached the group. They turned to face him and then Hermione was enveloped in another two hugs, one from Kingsley and the other from Percy.

“It was incredible,” said Percy, looking awed at her. “Did you see Isolda Selwyn’s face when she left? If looks could kill, she’d be more dangerous than a basilisk.”

Everyone laughed.

“That was the icing on the cake,” added Ron with a smirk.

“Thanks, to all of you. I was so nervous it feels strange to know it’s over and that the law passed. I think it’ll take a while for me to completely believe it.”

“Well, it’s done,” Kingsley said, looking at her proudly. “Now we’ve just got to face the press outside and then you’re free until Monday. You’ve earned it.”

She smiled at him. “Okay then, let’s do this.” She turned towards Ron. “See you at home?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll start lunch.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, and gave him a quick peck before leaving the room with Kingsley, Percy and Knowton in tow.

“Well, it’s over,” said Harry with a sigh. “I’m going to send Ginny a message, she made me promise I’d let her know how it went the moment it was over.

“Okay,” said Ron, nodding.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow?” Harry asked as they moved slowly along the crowd.

“I reckon we’ll go to Hermione’s parents’ and have lunch with them. I imagine they’ll want to celebrate. Why do you ask?”

“If you hadn’t plans, we could have lunch at my house. But well, we’ll see each other at the Burrow on Sunday, right?

“Of course.”

Harry put a hand on Ron’s shoulders and sighed. “I’m happy for you, Ron, but, knowing that after next week you’ll no longer work here feels odd,” he confessed in a nostalgic tone.

“Yeah, I know. It feels odd for me as well, after all these years. But we’ll see each other plenty. I’ll make sure we have lunches at least a couple of times a week. Now that you’re Deputy Head, someone will have to drag you out from meetings with high officials before it goes to your head and you become some pompous git.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want that. I count on you to prevent that, Mate,” Harry responded, and both friends burst into laughs.

* * *

After leaving Harry, Ron took care of a few things he had started, and then went home. He was almost finishing making lunch when he heard the Floo and heard Hermione’s voice.

“I’m home!” she said, sounding tired.

“In the kitchen!” he shouted as he opened the cooling cabinet, took the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Then he continued preparing the salad to go with the steaks he had already cooked and put under Warming Charms. “Tired, Love?” he asked when she walked in, offering her the glass of wine.

“Oh, thank you, Ron, this is what I needed!” she said gratefully, taking the glass and letting herself drop onto one of the chairs before taking a sip. “Well, this _and_ a good foot massage …”

Ron looked at her, chuckling. “Maybe later,” he replied. “Tired?” he asked again.

“Very. I thought the press conference would last forever. Thank Merlin it’s Friday!”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I expected you sooner, though. It’s been almost a hour and a half since the voting.”

“Well, after the press conference I had a drink at the office with my team to celebrate. And then when I left people kept stopping me to congratulate me.” She huffed. “Even people I’m pretty sure would have been quite happy if the law hadn’t been approved.”

“Well, that’s what politics entail,” he said wisely.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“But I’m sure most people were sincere. This is a great step, Hermione. You’re really amazing, you know?”

She laughed, but nodded, pleased. “Okay, though, if I’m sincere, I’m a bit tired of hearing that. I’ve been congratulated like a million times already. I’m rather sick of it, to be honest.”

“Really?” he asked, smiling devilishly at her. “Because I was thinking that we could share a hot bath and I was planning in congratulating you in a very special way …” he said, letting his voice trail off.

Hermione looked at him, and he was pleased to see a hint of desire behind her brown eyes. “Mmmh, well, maybe I’m not _completely_ tired of receiving congratulations, after all.”

“Good,” he said huskily. “Why don’t you call your parents while I get everything ready for lunch? Then we’ll put some food in our bellies, close the Floo connection and enjoy the rest of the day.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said, and took another long sip before getting up and exiting the kitchen.

Hermione looked so tired during lunch that once they had finished eating he told her to lie down on the couch for a bit while he cleaned up. Hermione gave him a grateful smile and took his advice, going to their bedroom to change before laying on the couch. When Ron went to check on her ten minutes later, she was already dead to the world. She had changed into one of his t-shirts and had covered herself with their, fluffy, soft and warm couch blanket. Ron couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful and cute she looked, thinking, for the millionth time, how lucky he was for having her. Without nothing else to do, he grabbed a Quidditch magazine, sat down on one of the armchairs and began to read, enjoying the quiet of the house, only disturbed from time to time by the creaking of the fire.

Finally, after almost two hours, Hermione began to stir. Ron watched her, a smile curving his lips.

“Hi,” she said in a weak voice. “What time is it?”

“Ten past four,” he told her.

“That late?” she asked, looking completely embarrassed. “For Merlin’s sake!”

“You were tired, Love. You had a rough night and were going on adrenaline alone. Now that it’s over, your body gave up.”

“I suppose,” she said, nodding.

“Do you feel better?”

“Mmmh, yeah.”

“What about that foot massage?”

“You want to give me one?” she asked, a bit surprised. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, I won’t say no to such a generous offer ...”

Ron approached her and she threw the blanket over the back of the couch, revealing her body. She hadn’t bothered with pyjama bottoms or leggings, and Ron’s mouth watered at the sigh. The t-shirt she was wearing reached the middle of her thighs, se he had an amazing view of her toned, smooth legs. He lifted her feet and sat on the couch, putting them back on his lap and massaging them, working the soles the way he knew she loved.

“Mmmmh, Ron, that feels wonderful,” she moaned in pleasure, and he felt his cock twitch a bit. Fuck, he loved the way she sounded, even if there was nothing remotely sexual about this. Or maybe there was — who knew?

As he continued working, she shifted a bit and opened her legs, which caused the t-shirt to rode higher, allowing him to see the simple, white cotton panties she was wearing. Nothing like the most alluring lingerie she owned, yet they were Hermione’s panties, covering her pussy, who looked fantastic under the thin fabric, and that made them utterly sexy.

Ron groaned inwardly as he kept massaging her feet, trying to dissimulate how horny he was getting. However, by the way Hermione was smirking, she knew perfectly way what he was thinking about.

“Ron, your hands are fantastic,” she said, moving her own to her thighs, which she caressed slightly. “But — what about that special congratulation you talked about?”

Ron looked into her eyes. “You want that?”

“Well,” she said, her fingers moving up, sliding her t-shirt upwards and revealing her knickers and her soft, flat lower belly, “I let half the Ministry congratulate me, I should allow my fiancé, shouldn’t I?”

“Sounds logic,” he said, and then adopted an expression like he was thinking hard. “I wonder what I could do …” he muttered, his voice trailing off. He kept massaging her foot with his left hand, but moved the right to rest its palm on her exposed belly and the top of her panties. And while he moved his left thumb over the sole of her foot, he also moved the right one, pressing it against her clit over the cotton and moving it in slow, teasing circles. “I suppose I could massage other parts of your body … Would that be all right?” he asked nonchalantly.

Hermione, whose mouth had opened in a silent moan, nodded eagerly. “Yes, Ron. Keep with that — that massage. That’d be — _ummh_ — perfect …”

“Yes, you’ve got a little knot here, I should work on it, just like when you’ve got one on your back …”

“Oh, yes, yes, work that little knot, Ron. Work it hard …” she pleaded, her legs opening even more to give him space. She closed her eyes, her face revealing the pleasure she was feeling, and Ron smirked as he kept working both her foot and her clit. His eyes moved from her face to her heaving tits and then to her crotch, and was pleased to see her knickers had started to get damp along her slit. Licking his lips, he moved his hand a bit and moved it along her entire pussy, causing more juices to seep through the cotton, almost turning the panties transparent.

“Ahh, Ron …”

“You’re getting a bit damp in here, maybe I could lick it while I keep massaging your knot?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, snapping her eyes open to look at him. “Do that, Ron.”

Ron nodded slowly, and released her foot, shifting on the couch and putting her left leg between him and the back of the couch so he was sitting between them, the right one still on his lap. “I’ll need to take off your knickers for that,” he said seriously, as if talking about the conditions of a business deal. “Would that be okay?” he asked, his thumb moving a bit faster over her clit.

“Yes, that’d be _absolutely_ okay!” she whimpered.

Licking his lips again, Ron yanked his fingers through the waistband of the knickers at her hips and pulled down. Hermione eagerly lifted her bum to help him, and Ron dragged the soaked piece of cloth down her legs. Once free, he stared at them a bit, holding them with a couple of fingers in front of his face. “They’re very soaked, Hermione.”

“I know, Ron, I really, really need your help …” she whispered huskily, sliding her hand so her fingers were touching the top of her trimmed pubic hair. Ron’s eyes followed them and then focused on her glistening folds. Shit, it had been six years since that glorious day he had seen her perfect pussy for the first time, and he still felt a shiver run down his spine when he got to see it. Well, not exactly. There were many times, when he caught her getting in or out of the shower during their daily routine, or when he entered the bathroom and she was using the toilet, or sometimes when she changed, that he did not feel that wave of arousal, and well, that was wonderful in its own way, wasn’t it? That normalcy, that sense of absolute familiarity where they could be naked in front of the other without a second thought.

But in times like this one, when they were clearly in the mood, that sight still drove him completely mad with desire.

“I love your pussy,” he couldn’t help but blurt out, and she chuckled in response, though there was unmistakable lust pooling in her eyes.

“Show me how much,” she whispered.

With his eyes fixed on hers, he lowered his head until his face was just a couple of inches away from it, and then looked down, breathing deeply to fill his nostrils with her amazing scent. Yes, he had been surrounded by those fantastic thighs and smothered by that cunt and bathed in her juices that very morning, but fuck, he could live off her, so it was never enough.

So he buried his face in that pussy he adored and rubbed his nose and mouth against it before plunging his tongue deep into her hole, eagerly sucking her juices into his greedy mouth. Hermione moaned loudly and one of her hands went to his head, holding onto his locks while he devoured her like a starving man.

After a bit, he wanted to reach deeper, to be more in her, so he lifted her right leg and put it over his shoulder, looping his arm around it and resting his hand on her stomach. Feeling naked skin instead of the threadbare fabric of the t-shirt, he looked up and his cock twitched: she had used her free hand to lift her shirt up, revealing her fantastic, round tits, which she was now massaging slowly. He grunted into her pussy and shoved his tongue deeper, starting a frantic tongue-fucking. Hermione moaned again, encouraging him to continue, and bent her leg a bit so her ankle was behind his neck, effectively trapping him against her cunt.

That only excited Ron further, and he went faster, moving his right hand so he could rub her clit once more in sync with the thrusts of his tongue. The treatment soon brought Hermione to the point of no return, and, when he felt her body starting to tremble, her his bucking insistently against his face, his quickly switched and his lips closed around her clit, sucking hard while he shoved two fingers into her wet hole. The sudden change had the desired effect, and she was sent spiralling out of control.

“Gods, Ron, YES! OH, YESSS!”

Smiling smugly, he kept sucking on her clit and fingering her while she trashed under him, his yes fixed on the way she squeezed her own breast. When her climax finally ebbed away and she loosened her hold on his neck and his hair, he crawled over her, kissing her belly and stomach, then her heaving tits, before claiming her mouth.

“Ron, that was wonderful,” she whispered lovingly, a bright smile on her face.

“I’m to serve, milady.”

“Yes, you are,” she nodded, the index finger of her left hand slightly caressing his chin. “Now, what if you take me to bed and make love to me properly?”

“Sounds good,” he responded, kissing her again. He intended for it to be a quick kiss, but she threw her arms around his neck and held him to her while they snogged. Being pressed this way against her warm, soft body, Ron couldn’t help but grind a little to ease the ache in his cock, and Hermione replied bucking her own hips, her cunt dampening the front of the sweatpants he had put on after getting home.

Finally, he broke the kiss and got up before scooping her in his arms. She giggled a bit, the noise sounding like music to his ears, and climbed the stairs towards their bedroom. He quickly put her on the bed, laying her as delicately as he could, and then proceeded to take his own clothes off while he watched her observing him hungrily while she bit her lower lip. When he dropped his boxers, revealing his cock, Hermione reached for it and grabbed it in her small, perfect hand, making him hiss in pleasure.

“I want all of this, Ron.”

“Where?” he managed to growl in response. Her eyes darkened even more as she moved her other hand and spread her legs, laying two fingers against her folds.

“Here,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “In this wet, tight, eager hole. My pussy, Ron. Fill it with your cock.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, barely restraining himself from throwing his body on top of hers. He knelt on the bed and placed himself between her open, inviting legs, and then lowered himself over her, lining his aching dick with her sopping hole.

“Ready?” he asked, though he knew she was.

“Eager.”

Groaning, Ron plunged in, his body becoming alive with the incomparable pleasure of being balls deep in her tight, perfect pussy that always was so hot and wet for him, clutching his cock as if it never did want it to leave.

Ron kissed her passionately and, supporting his weight on his left arm, put his right hand on her left breast and began to knead it in time with his thrusts.

“Like that, Ron, like that. More. More,” she whispered against her lips. Ron moved a bit faster, wanting to lose himself in her perfect body, feeling her moans and the air of her ragged breath tickle his lips. He kept his eyes fixed on her and she returned his stare, both contemplating the same passion, desire, love and lust they were emitting as their bodies crashed against each other over and over, drowning them in a sea of pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Hermione … so good …” he whispered, his hips moving faster as he fucked her pussy hard. Hermione moaned in response and crossed her ankles under his bum, trapping him. Her hands moved to his buttocks and she kneaded them, helping him to move harder with each downthrust.

“I’m so fucking close, Hermione … Gods, your pussy is — Oh, fuck …”

“Yes, Ron, yes. I want you to cum in me … You feel wonderful on top of me, fucking me … Gods, I love you so much …”

“Shit, Hermi-knee!”

“I’m there, Ron,” she gasped, her breathing getting more and more uneven. “I’m going to cum again with your cock in me. Gods, it’s coming! It’s coming!”

“Shit, cum for me and then I’ll fill you up! Let me feel your pussy spasming as you cum!”

“Yes, yes, Ron, I’m — Oh, gods gods gods, Ron! Ahhh, I’m coming! I’m coming!” she screamed, clutching his ass and pushing him deep in her while she bucked her hips wildly.

“Fuck, I can feel your cunt milking my cock! Ungghh, Hermione! Cumming too!”

Hermione kissed him hard, each swallowing the moans of the other and she tightened her muscles around his cock to milk him completely. Buried so deeply in her, he hollered into her mouth as he unloaded powerfully, giving to her all he had to give.

“Oh, fuck …” he moaned when it was over.

“Mmmh, that sounds about right,” she agreed, letting out a sigh of pure contentment.

“Love, we’re really good at this sex thing …” he whispered, rolling off her.

She chuckled. “Well, I told you _hundreds_ of times that practice makes perfection, Ron. And we practice _a lot_ ,” she commented, snuggling against him.

“Yeah. That shouldn’t change.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

They lay on the bed for a bit, recovering and enjoying their closeness, until, barely five minutes later, Ron let out a sigh and made a gesture to get out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” she whined in protest.

“Well, I promised you a hot bath, didn’t I? I was going to get it ready before we get cold.”

“Mmmh, okay.”

Ron gave her a kiss and walked towards the bathroom.

“Nice view,” he heard her say. He turned his head and saw her with her eyes trained on his bum and a smirk on her face.

“You like pale, freckled asses, do you?” he asked as he entered the bathroom and turned on the taps of the tub.

“I’m a fan of your pale, flecked ass, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron laughed and went back to the bedroom, where he used his wand to Summon two glasses and one of the bottles of Sparklejuice they sill conserved from when they had gone to Australia to search for her parents and give them back their memories.

“Sparklejuice?” Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow. “We only have it on very special occasions. When was the last time? When we got engaged?”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. “But as we both finished an important stage of our lives, I suppose it’s appropriate.” He put the bottle and glasses under a Cooling Charm and put it in the bathroom, in a little table he Conjured next to the tub. Then he cast some floating balls of soft light and turned off the bathroom light.

“The tub is ready. Are you coming?” he asked, peering through the open door.

Hermione, who was still lying on the bed, just smiled. “I was hoping some strong Auror would come and carry me.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “Lazy, aren’t we?” he teased, and she shrugged. Shaking his head, he moved towards the bed and took her on his arms. She wrapped hers around his neck for support. “Luckily for you, I love carrying naked girls.”

“Do you?” she asked coyly.

“Yeah, because I can do this.” He began to move his hands, balancing her and causing her boobs to jiggle.

“Ron!”

“What? I love making your tits move that way.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it, but it’s a bit dizzying, you know. If you want to see my tits bouncing, you cand always use your hands for that.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” he assured, lowering her to into the tub. She sighed in pleasure when the water covered her body.

“Mmmh, this is fantastic, Ron. And the lights are perfect. Thank you.”

“Well, as I’ve already stated, we Aurors live to serve — so enjoy it while you can, I’ve got just another week left,” he said, getting in the water next to her.

“You’ll always have honorary Auror status, Ron.”

“Well, hopefully, the Ministry won’t ever need my services again.”

“Let’s toast to that.”

Hermione poured Sparklejuice for both of them and, after toasting, they drank.

“Fuck, I never get tired of how good this is. Someone should import it.”

“Well, you’re going to work in a shop, won’t you?” suggested Hermione.

Ron thought about it for a moment. “You think we should? I mean, it’s a joke shop, not a grocery.”

“A joke shop that has security items as one of its most successful lines of product,” added Hermione. “Maybe you could add a drinks section. Not things like Firewhiskey, but fun drinks, like Sparklejuice. You already sell potions and sweets that cause funny effects.”

“You know what? That’s a really good idea. I must talk to George about it!” he exclaimed, grinning excitedly. Hermione, who was watching him, smiled fondly at him. “What?” he asked, noticing her expression. “You’ve got the same face that when I say something sweet out of the blue.”

“Nothing. It’s just it’s good to see you excited about your job again. I should have realised sooner you weren’t happy at the Ministry, Ron. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I hadn’t realised it myself.” He let out a sigh. “So — what about another toast? To change, maybe? Both in our lives and those you brought to the Wizarding world.”

She nodded and smiled, though he noticed there was some nostalgy in her eyes.

“You okay, Love?”

“Yes. It’s just it hasn’t settled yet, that the law passed. I was sure that when that happened I’d feel very accomplished. And don’t get me wrong — I do feel accomplished, it’s just — I don’t know, as if one part of my life is gone forever.”

He nodded.

“I suppose it’s got to do what you said this morning, we saved the world at eighteen, and then had success in our dream jobs at twenty-five. And I know I didn’t change my job, but what I wanted to do when I joined the Ministry, I already did, so, though I’m still the Head of the Legal Office, I feel as if I was on the verge of a new stage.”

“Well, I reckon we’re both overachievers,” joked Ron.

“Undoubtedly. But now what?”

“Now we appreciate what we got, and we live. We’ve got a wedding to prepare, and a life together to enjoy. I understand that, after everything, a quieter, more normal life will feel odd, but I think it might be a good life. As long as you want to live it with me.”

She looked at him, infinite love coming from her eyes. “That sounds about right. And I wouldn’t live this life with anyone else, Ron.”

Ron leaned forwards and they shared a brief, loving kiss.

“Now we talk about normal lives, and weddings, I couldn’t help but remember Calista’s story. It was so sad.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ron. “Did you hear it before?”

“She gave me a summary yesterday,” answered Hermione. “I felt a bit bad about asking her to tell the Wizengamot something so personal, especially after losing her son, but she insisted. I think she needed to atone for her mistakes, to do something so her sufferings and John’s death wouldn’t be for nothing.”

“Yeah.”

“And well, hearing her talking about Gordon, how she still seemed to love him after so many years … Ron, I told you I wanted to get this law approved so we could focus on our wedding, and we talked about family not far in the future, but I don’t want to wait. I mean, I’m not saying I want to get pregnant now, but I want us to start trying after the wedding. I want a complete family with you.”

Ron stared at her, not knowing what to say. In his mind he saw her pregnant, then again in a bed, with him, a little redheaded baby in her arms and an expression of pure love on her face, and, though once more he felt completely scared by the responsibility it would entail, he knew he wanted the same.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s marry, let’s enjoy a good honeymoon, and then we’ll start trying. 2005 sounds like a good year to have a child, I think.”

“Really?” she asked, beaming. “I mean, I know we talked about a year or two, so it’s okay if you want to wait a bit more, but —”

“No, let’s do this. Let’s have a baby. Then another, maybe a couple years later or so, this way we’ll get the worse part of parenthood out of the way before you are inducted into the Wizengamot. I reckon two is a good number. What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect.”

“Let’s toast to that, then. To our family. To ourselves and those future little mixtures of Ron and Hermione.”

They clinked their glasses and drank, and the moment they put their glasses on the little table, Hermione straddled him and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“Love, don’t think for even a moment that I’m complaining, but — what brought this up?”

“I simply love you. You make me so happy, Ron. I know sometimes you think you’re not enough for me because you can’t always follow me when I start rambling about some law or else, and that sometimes I bore you, and that it exasperates me when the Cannons lose a game and you whine for hours event though you should be used to that, and that we still bicker a lot, but there’s no one else that could make me feel what you make me feel. I’m so grateful and lucky for having you.”

“Hermione …” he muttered, so touched by her words he didn’t know what to say.

“And I know we talked about trying after the wedding, but I think I’d really love to practice some more, if you’re up for it …”

“Shit, yeah,” he nodded eagerly, his hands moving to her firm, round ass. “I might not be _up_ right now, but I’ll be in a second. Let’s practice.”

They snogged again, their love and passion flaring, and after just a couple of minutes his cock was raging, ready to penetrate her. So she shifted in the water and took it into her wet pussy, both sighing in pleasure as she descended on him. They shared another kiss, and then she pushed her chest out so he could suck on her tits as she started to move on his cock.

Ron sucked greedily as she gained some speed, his hands helping her. The water sloshed around them as they made love. This time, however, it didn’t become frenzied, like when she had ridden him that morning, and, though her rhythm was fast, it was far more sensual.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, watching her body move on top of him, her breasts bouncing delightfully. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this …”

“And you’re so handsome,” she replied, her hands kneading his strong shoulders and pecs. “You’ve got to promise me to keep work out when you leave the Aurors; I really loved the muscles you’ve got … Oh, Ron …”

“Fuck, Hermione, move faster, please …”

“Mmmh, it just feels wonderful like this … I love feeling every ridge of your cock as I ride you.”

“Shit, Love,” he muttered. It really felt amazing, though he knew that, after coming once barely fifteen minutes ago, he would need more intensity to cum again.

“Ron, rub me, please.”

Ron took one of her nipples in his mouth once more and moved his right hand between them, his thumb seeking her clit with ease. The moment he began to rub it, she practically whimpered above him, her pussy clenching deliciously.

“Ahhh, like that, Ron. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck, don’t stop …”

Ron watched Hermione, enthralled by how hot she looked as she approached her orgasm, and rubbed harder, hoping she would move faster and provoke his climax along with hers. However, she just increased how fast she was rotating her hips, but kept the overall pace more or less the same.

“Ron, I’m just there!” she moaned. “Rub me faster, please! Just a bit faster and — Oh, fuck, yes! Ohh, like that, like that, like that!” she moaned, practically sobbing as she orgasmed powerfully, taking his dick to the hilt and squeezing him hard.

“Shit, Hermione!”

“Gods, that was fantastic, Ron …” she sighed, smiling brilliantly at him. “I love riding you in the water, it’s so erotic …”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said, his hands caressing her sides, “but I didn’t get there. You moved a bit too slow for my needs.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes glimmering with mischief. “But I was thinking that, well …” she trailed off, her hands moving to caress his chest sensually.

“You were thinking — what?”

“Well, despite how hard these past weeks have been, we took another step in our sexual life, so I was thinking that, as we’re celebrating, I could let you finish in my ass. If you want, of course.”

Ron stared at her open-mouthed. “If _I_ want? Shit, Hermione, of course I want it!”

“Good,” she whispered, and lowered her head to give him a kiss. Then she got off him and knelt next to him, resting her arms on the border and shaking her ass invitingly. “Come for it, Ron.”

“Fuck,” he cursed, propelled into action. His cock bobbed as he positioned himself behind her, his eyes trained of those perfect globes of flesh and the delicious, insanely tight hole between them. He caressed her ass reverently, his cock twitching eagerly. Hermione turned her head and gave him a sultry smile before passing him some soap. “Prepare me for your hard prick, Ron.”

Ron lathered his hands and then, carefully, slid one finger into her, making her moan. “Does it feel good?” he asked her, brimming with anticipation due to how tight she felt around his finger. She nodded and he moved it a bit more before adding a second one. He stretched her a bit, and then, unable to wait anymore, he soaped his cock. Spreading her cheeks, he positioned his dick against her hole and then pushed. Hermione whimpered when the tight ring gave up and his head went in. He stopped a bit, and then pushed again while she pushed back. Ron’s cock twitched knowing she was eager to have him inside her as well.

“Fuck, Hermione …” he moaned when the first half of his dick was inside her asshole.

“Ron, I feel so full, but I want more. Give me more. Fuck me until you cum in me. Come on, do it.”

“Fuck, yeah! Get ready, Hermione,” he said through clenched teeth, and then pushed with force, burying himself completely in her perfect, incredibly tight bum. “Fuuuuck, Hermione, it’s so fucking tight … so fucking good …”

“Yes, Ron. Gods, you feel so big in there. Now move. Fuck my ass. Fuck it.”

Ron retreated slowly, enjoying the way her ass constricted his cock as he retreated, and then thrust forwards again, his hips slamming into her ass and making the flesh of her perfect, plump cheeks ripple with each impact.

“Fuck, yess!” he hissed, thrusting again, and again, and again, and again, the pleasure in his dick growing steadily. Hermione pushed back, moaning as well, encouraging him to fuck her harder and faster, to reach deeper.

Barely two minutes later, he was fucking her really fast and roughly, feeling in cloud nine with the pressure her asshole applied on his rock hard cock. His balls began to tighten and his shaft swelled, ready to fire what was left of his load into her clutching ass.

“Hermione, I’m about to cum! Shit, your ass is so fucking tight! So bloody fucking tight!”

“Do it, Ron!” she yelled, her voice strained. “Do it! Cum deep in me, cum hard!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he chanted, going beyond his breaking point. He squeezed her ass hard, relishing the feel of those perfect mounds while he slammed into her forcefully and buried himself as deep as possible before finally exploding powerfully. “Fuck, Hermione! Hermioneeeee! Ohhh, fuuuuuuck!”

“Yes, Ron, yes! Ohh, you’re so deep! So deep!”

“Aaah, so tight, Hermione, so tight! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he shouted, jerkin his hips rapidly to try and get even deeper as he cum in her ass in long, thick spurts. “Merlin, it was fucking amazing!” he moaned, feeling his body still trembling due to the intensity of his climax. “I love you ass …” he added, lowering his head and putting a kiss on her back while he still had his cock inside her.

Finally, he took it out, and lay next to her, sighing in pleasure. Hermione turned round and lay as well.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded with a smile. “Fantastic.

“Fuck, thank you for that, Love. It really was amazing.”

“I could tell,” she said with a chuckle.

“I’m parched,” he said, reaching for the glasses and more Sparklejuice. He poured some for both of them and passed her her glass.

“To the new stage in our lives and an awesome celebration?”

“To the new stage in our lives, an awesome celebration, _and_ our future family,” responded Hermione, clinking her glass against his. They drank a long gulp, and then sealed the deal with a long, loving kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s it!  
> Originally, there was another scene, a month or so later, in which Harry came to Diagon Alley to have lunch with Ron and then they were called as Ginny was about to give birth, but the chapter was already too big and, I don’t know, I liked the clean end of the last sentence, so I decided not to add it.  
> Those of you who read DO, I hope you appreciate the reference to the Sparklejuice. Of course, in this story they do not discover the drink the same way, as they journey to Australia was a bit different, but I like to have all my stories share as many elements as possible, even if some of them are AU.  
> I hope you liked Calista’s story, despite how sad it is. But I liked the idea of her redeeming herself a bit by helping eradicate discrimination.  
> And well, that’s it! Next update will be to Discovering Ourselves, in about a week or a week and half. I really hope you liked this story. Let me know what you think and try to write some Romione smut!


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